


Reflection (i don't like what i see)

by ellipsisthegreat



Series: Conquer(ed) [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Blood, F/M, Gore, Intense Violence, M/M, about a million other things I’m not thinking of, cuddling as a kink, graphic descriptions of illness, misuse of medical supplies, sociopathic/psychopathic behavior (exhibited by adults and children), threat to a child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 21:48:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellipsisthegreat/pseuds/ellipsisthegreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a routine mission Bones steps off of the transporter pad into a world where violence is encouraged, murder is par for the course, and a man who looks like Jim makes him question everything he thought he knew about himself…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflection (i don't like what i see)

**Author's Note:**

> I THOUGHT THIS STORY WAS LOST IN THE GREAT HARDDRIVE CRASH OF 2012 YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY I WAS WHEN I FOUND A COPY OF IT ON MY FRIEND’S USB DRIVE.
> 
> *coughs*
> 
> So in any case, as I was finishing up Conquer(ed) I wrote what was basically meant to be an unimportant little conversation where the MU kids are telling evil!Bones about normal!Bones, and it comes out that normal!Bones went berserker and beat up a guy with a bedpan for hurting evil!Joanna. And then I got to wondering how Bones—who is as anti-violence as a guy who wields hypos like weapons of mass destruction can be—would get to the point of beating a guy up, whether said guy had hurt Joanna or not. So I wrote this.
> 
> Although this does have some pretty intense scenes, I don’t think it’s quite as twisted as Conquer(ed). It’s definitely a lot more lighthearted (I managed to slip in a few awesome (imo) ‘omg cuddling is so kinky you sick fuck why would you even’ moments; I’m so excited for those you don’t even know), but you should still heed the warnings before you read.
> 
> You don’t have to read Conquer(ed) to understand/enjoy this story (at least I don’t think so?) but it probably helps. I certainly hope you will!
> 
> Thanks as always to the ever-indulgent tresa, who puts up with my shit for God knows what reason, and the wonderful ladies over at **jim_and_bones**! Thanks for your fantastic encouragement, darlings!
> 
> Enjoy!

There was something about those eyes—a blue so familiar he almost felt safe, but with such rage burning in them he knew at any moment the person they belonged to could and would snap. Like being in the ocean you’d grown up next to and seeing a shark’s fin break the water a few feet away.

“Where is Leonard?” the man asked, voice so perfectly reflecting those eyes that McCoy could already feel himself being torn asunder.

“I,” he began, but his voice was so soft and hoarse he had to stop and clear his throat and—that was a mighty sharp knife tickling his Adam’s apple. “I’m Leonard. Dr. Leonard McCoy.” The knife pressed closer and with a soft exclamation he raised up on his tiptoes to keep it from biting into his skin. “Oh, God.”

“You,” the man, the not-Jim, the lethal force of nature, said, “are not Leonard.”

“Captain.” Fuck, McCoy had never been so happy to hear Spock’s annoying robot voice in all his life. Even if this Spock—this not-Spock—had a beard that made him look even more alien than usual. “It would seem the transporter has malfunctioned, sending our own doctor to some sort of parallel universe and bringing his counterpart…here.”

Not-Jim twisted the fingers of his free hand in McCoy’s shirt. He snarled, the sound rolling over McCoy like thunder. “Bring him back.”

“I can’t,” McCoy said, huffing the words out. Not-Jim’s grip tightened even further. McCoy scowled. “Dammit, man, I’m a doctor not an engineer. I fix people, not that science voodoo bullshit.”

Not-Jim reared back like he’d been slapped; not-Spock’s eyebrow arched.

McCoy jerked away from not-Jim’s loosened hold on him, viciously straightening his shirt down and glaring. At everyone.

“I shall ask Mr. Scott to begin looking over the equipment immediately to locate the source of the problem and any possible solutions,” not-Spock said. “In the meantime, a lesson to those who might think such an egregious error was acceptable from a servant of the Empire?”

Not-Jim’s lips curled up into an unfamiliar sneer. Before McCoy could even grasp what was going on, the Ensign had crumpled to the ground, the knife that had been at McCoy’s throat embedded in his eye.

“Oh my God,” McCoy said, legs going weak. He fell back against the wall, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ, man, what in the ever-loving hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Taking care of useless baggage,” not-Jim said, grabbing hold of his arm.

“You didn’t have to kill him,” McCoy said, struggling in not-Jim’s grasp. “You didn’t…goddammit, let go of me, you lunatic.”

Not-Jim did, but only to reach up and fist his hand in McCoy’s hair, instead. “Listen here, Doc: I need you alive for now because it is entirely possible—”

“Probable,” not-Spock said.

“—Probable that I cannot get my Leonard back with you dead, your continued state of being alive is in my best interests. But continue to try my patience and I might just decide to chance sending you back to your own universe dead. Are we understood?”

“I don’t know who in the hell you think you are—”

“I’m the captain of this ship.”

“And I’m your doctor,” McCoy roared, the outburst shocking even him into silence.

Not-Spock cleared his throat, folding his arms behind his back and turning his bland gaze onto not-Jim. “It is time for lunch. Sir.”

Not-Jim swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing, and said, “we’ll take it in my quarters, Mr. Spock. If you’ll debrief the Alpha crew.” He looked at McCoy with something akin to respect in his eyes. “Doctor.”

McCoy twitched, hands clenched into fists at his sides, and looked down at the ground. “Call me Bones. Too fucking weird for you to call me Doctor,” he said in a low mumble.

“Bones?” not-Jim asked.

McCoy glared again.

An obviously involuntary laugh burst from not-Jim’s lips. “Alright, then. Bones.” He smirked, and suddenly looked so much like Jim that McCoy’s heart ached. “You may call me James.”

(JIM,ITHINKILIKEDHIMWITHAPAGEBREAKBETTER.ITGAVEHIMCHARACTER)

He took about two steps into the room James led him to before he stopped short, feeling like he’d been dragged into one of Jim’s bar fights and sucker punched a few times in the gut.

“Jo-Jo?” His voice shook—hell, all of him shook—and he had to concentrate to keep from falling to the floor from shock.

Jo-Jo (no, not Jo-Jo, shit) turned. Her eyebrows furrowed in the exact way Jo-Jo’s did, and if his heart had ached before it was falling out of his chest and shattering on the ground, now. “Who are you?”

Oh, God. It was like every nightmare he’d ever had coming true all at once.

“Engineering fucked up the transporter, or…something, who the fuck knows? So now we’ve got this guy instead of your dad, Joanna,” James said.

Not-Jo-Jo, Joanna, nodded slowly. She frowned at McCoy. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I just…I’m not…” His throat was closing up around the words. He took a shuddering breath and said, “I haven’t seen Jo-Jo in almost five years.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she peered at McCoy in a way that sent a shiver up his spine. Like she was drawing dotted lines over his torso in preparation for an autopsy. “Why not?”

“Joss got custody in the divorce,” he said, and looked around, half-expecting his ex-wife to come slinking out of one of the rooms to terrorize him. “I get to see her for vid calls, but it’s not…the same…can I hug you?”

She blinked at him, head slowly tilting to one side. She glanced past him, presumably at James, and whatever he did must have been encouraging because she nodded and said, “Okay.”

He reached up, slowly, hesitantly, until Joanna rolled her eyes (maybe this place wasn’t so different; he had definitely seen Jo-Jo do that more than once) and put her arms around his neck. He practically melted into her arms, embracing her and just barely stopping himself from squeezing her as hard as he could. She was just so big—bigger than he thought Jo-Jo was, but what in the fuck did he know? It was hard to judge size over a vid. But she was little, too, obviously only ten, and so fucking perfect.

He felt tears sting his eyes and buried his face in her neck, sniffling loudly and feeling so ridiculously jealous of the other him, who could do this anytime he wanted. Could just drop in on her and hug her or kiss her or help her do her homework; could buy her anything he wanted without having to hear about the much nicer toy Clay goddamn Treadway had gotten her; could tuck her in and see so many rolling eyes he was sick of them.

“I don’t reckon you ought to be sad,” she said quietly when he pulled away, a finger tracing the tear tracks on his cheeks.

“I’m not,” he said, resisting the urge to hug her again. “I’m just so happy I’m crying.”

“That’s weird,” she said, and eyed him warily. “You’re weird.”

He laughed wetly and nodded. “I guess I am.” He wiped his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. “Where’s your mother?”

“I don’t have one.” She shrugged nonchalantly. Then, considering something for a moment, she said, “Well, I guess technically I do. Did. She’s dead.”

“Oh, honey,” he said, because as much as he’d come to hate Joss after…after everything, he’d never actually wished her dead. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” She seemed genuinely curious; he couldn’t decide if it was unsettling or just…sad.

“Leonard killed her,” James said. “I believe her skeleton is still hanging from the walls of his estate, but I’ve never been there.”

McCoy stared at him, eyes wide and disbelieving.

“It was the last time I was there,” Joanna said helpfully.

He looked between the two of them for a moment, hoping one of them would break down and laugh and say it was some sort of twisted joke. They didn’t.

“Tell me I’m not a doctor, here,” he said finally.

“CMO of the ISS _Enterprise_ ,” James said. “Finest doctor in the Terran Empire.”

“How am I not in prison?” he asked. “I…I _killed_ someone…”

“You’ve killed several someones,” James said. “More than several. Don’t tell me you never have.” With poorly hidden contempt he added, “Doctor.”

“Of course I…I mean, not on…” He shook his head, swallowing thickly. “Never with any sort of pleasure.”

“You never quite forget the feeling of blood on your hands,” James said with a smirk, eyes blue and full of the sort of blood lust that should have gotten him thrown into an asylum, at the very least.

“Daddy won’t let me kill anyone, yet,” Joanna said, and rolled her eyes again. “He says he wants to make it special.”

“Don’t want to waste your first kill on just any old schmuck, Joanna,” James said.

“My first kill was when I was four, James,” Joanna said.

“Humans are different,” James said. “Trust me, kiddo.”

“Don’t call me kiddo,” she said. “I need to go to the lab—Mr. Spock’s giving me a lesson about different embalming fluids.”

“Sure thing,” James said, and patted her head as she walked past him, chuckling at the noise of protest she made. “Don’t forget to eat dinner at some point; Vulcans can go without eating but you can’t.”

“You’re my dad’s fuck buddy, not my dad,” she called back before the doors slid shut behind her.

“Oh, God,” Leonard said, and felt himself shaking. “My daughter’s a goddamn serial killer. Hell, _I’m_ a serial killer. You’re _all_ serial killers. Angels and ministers of grace defend us.”

“What is a serial killer?” James asked.

“The fact that I even have to explain what a serial killer is, is terrifying, I hope you know,” McCoy said.

“You aren’t explaining what it is,” James said.

“A person who commits multiple murders for pleasure,” McCoy said. “For no other reason than to do it.”

And, Christ, James was actually thinking about it; turning the idea over in his head like it was novel.

“Usually I do it because people get in my way,” James said finally. “Or piss me off. Leonard allegedly killed Jocelyn because she was an unfaithful whore.”

McCoy couldn’t help but snort. “That didn’t change, then.”

“But you divorced her?” James asked. “And she got custody of Joanna?”

“Yes,” McCoy said, and hoped James would know McCoy meant it to be the end of the conversation.

He didn’t want to discuss the way he’d killed his father and drunk himself out of a job, out of a marriage, out of fatherhood, out of Georgia. He sure as hell didn’t want to discuss it with the…the _not-Jim_ ballsy enough to masquerade as McCoy’s best friend. He couldn’t hold a candle to the real Jim, who in spite of his (many, many) faults was the best man McCoy had ever known. This bloodthirsty maniac didn’t even deserve to share the same name, for all that he came from a world of bloodthirsty maniacs.

“Are you hungry?” James asked.

McCoy had half a mind to say no, just to be contrary (also because what if these lunatics ate the heads of their enemies or some sadistic bullshit like that?), but his stomach growled loudly in answer.

“You eat meat, or is that some sort of bizarre taboo?” James arched an eyebrow at him.

“I leave the vegetarianism to the hob—to Spock,” McCoy said.

James laughed. “How interesting; you call him a hobgoblin, too.”

A shiver went up McCoy’s spine.

What did it mean, to have things in common with his sinister counterpart?

(JIM,ITHINKILIKEDHIMWITHAPAGEBREAKBETTER.ITGAVEHIMCHARACTER)

“It’s in everyone’s best interests for you to stay here,” James said, jaw set in the same stubborn way Jim often got when he thought he was doing what was best.

“It’s in _your_ best interests to let me do my goddamn job,” McCoy said.

“If you get killed—”

“You don’t even know if you can reverse this,” McCoy said. “You can’t keep me locked up in here for the rest of my life, dammit.”

“Sure I can,” James said.

McCoy could feel his face twisting into the ugly snarl that had once (supposedly) made an intern burst into tears. And that was before the divorce had turned him bitter and angry at the world.

“You’d need a bodyguard,” James said.

“Would not.”

“You do realize that more than a few members of this crew will kill you at the first sign of weakness?” James asked. “That is a concept you understand and accept as reality?”

“Who kills a doctor?” McCoy asked. “Even in a universe as morally fucked as this one that seems like a tremendously bad idea.”

“Maybe in your universe it’s different,” James said, “but here people tend to be phenomenally stupid.”

He snorted. “No, that’s the same.”

“The number of attempts went down after the first time he and Mr. Scott rigged a biobed to double as an Agony Booth,” James said.

He sputtered, choking on the breath he had just drawn because ‘Agony Booth’? ‘ _First time_ ’?

“But you will be fair game,” James continued, watching him cough with a look of detached curiosity not unlike the one Spock wore when McCoy said something particularly human.

“I can take care of myself,” McCoy said.

“Maybe in your fluffy little universe you can, but I nearly took you out within moments of meeting you,” James said. “You are woefully vulnerable.”

“You surprised me.”

“No wannabe assassin—even one stupid enough to attack a doctor—is going to try a full frontal assault or give you some sort of warning,” James said angrily. “Oh, terribly sorry, old chap, but I think I’ll try to stab you in the face, now. I’d invite you to tea and crumpets, but _you’ll be fucking dead_.”

“Don’t be melodramatic, James,” McCoy said.

“I’m not being melodramatic. I am being just goddamn dramatic enough,” James said. “I’ll have Chapel keep an eye on you.”

“Christine is a nurse,” McCoy said.

“She once castrated a man for grabbing her ass and stood over him until he bled out,” James said. “She’s fucking terrifying, and if Leonard didn’t spoil her the way he does I’d be afraid of a hostile takeover. As it is, she has a vested interest in your continued survival.”

“Fine,” McCoy said, because honestly, how often did he actually win an argument with Jim? And, frightening as it was, James was very similar to Jim in some ways. (Though, thankfully, not in any of the ways that would make Jim a crazed killer.) “Just…fine. If I agree to let Christine babysit, will you let me do my damn job?”

“Sure,” James said. “Thanks for your cooperation, Doctor.”

“You’re so welcome, Captain,” McCoy said. “Do you want to walk me to Sickbay? Should I look both ways and hold your hand when we cross the corridors?”

“No need for _hand holding_ , Bones.” Holy fucking hell, James was actually blushing. Or maybe McCoy was imagining it, because James shook his head and the redness in his cheeks was gone. “But yes, I’m walking you to Sickbay.”

“Being babied by a lunatic is disconcerting,” he mused out loud.

James pursed his lips together. “It’s a necessity.”

“Doesn’t make it any less disconcerting.”

James turned, shoulders stiff, and led the way out of the room. “Also, I wouldn’t call her Christine to her face. I’ve seen her euthanize men for less.”

“Does the Hippocratic Oath mean nothing to the medical staff, here?” he asked, disgusted.

James stopped mid-step and turned to look at him, eyebrows flirting with his hairline. “The Hippocratic Oath?”

“I swear to fulfill, to the best of my ability and judgment, this covenant: I will respect the hard-won scientific gains of those physicians in whose steps I walk, and gladly share such knowledge as is mine with those who are to follow,” McCoy began, and recited the rest of the Oath by rote as James stared at him incredulously.

“You…you’re serious?” James asked. “You’re seriously serious?”

“Of course I am,” McCoy said.

James stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment before shaking his head and continuing down the hallway. “You really aren’t my Leonard.”

“No,” McCoy said, just barely refraining from adding, “thank God.”

“I wasn’t sure until just now,” James said. “I thought it might be some elaborate prank, but…good goddamn, Bones, you are the real deal.”

“Apparently,” McCoy said.

James sighed. “We’ll have to be careful how we present this to the Admiralty, if it comes to that. Get too mushy and they’ll institutionalize you.”

“They’ll _what_?”

“For your own good,” James said. “I might do it myself, if it comes to that.”

“The hell you say,” McCoy said.

James shook his head. “You’ll see, Bones. You’ll see.”

McCoy shot him a withering look when he gave a ridiculous little bow and motioned him toward the Sickbay doors.

He straightened his shirt and stuck his nose in the air, feigning dignity because he didn’t have enough left to manage it, otherwise.

“Doctor,” Chapel said as she passed him, arms laden with what looked like a new shipment of hypo canisters. “Ensign Chekov is on biobed five; probable bruising of his third rib and possible cracking of the fourth and fifth, as well as a black eye and several other bumps and bruises. And I’m fairly certain he’s broken at least one knuckle.”

“Thank you, Nurse,” McCoy said, and thanked whatever god had saw fit to make the layout of Sickbay the same in both universes.

“I need to talk to you, Chapel, if you’ve got a moment,” James said with the air of someone who didn’t actually give a fuck if the person they were talking to had a moment or not.

Chapel looked up at the ceiling briefly, but nodded and said, “Of course, sir. Do you mind holding this conversation in inventory?”

“Not at all,” James said. “Lead the way.”

McCoy headed over to Chekov, who would have looked just as beguilingly innocent as his counterpart if not for the myriad of bruises covering his body.

“Mr. Chekov,” he said, glancing at the readings from the biobed. They confirmed Chapel’s assessment (she was brilliant, just like Christine; surprise, surprise), and he motioned at another nurse to bring him the dermal and osteoregenerators. The anesthetic he found in one of the bed’s compartments (not so different after all, whatever that meant). “Any inclination to let me in on the origin of these injuries?”

“I had to help a security ensign reassess his decisions,” Chekov said. If not for the content of the sentence he would have sounded exactly like Pavel. “Forcefully.”

“And why isn’t he in here?” McCoy asked.

“He is in the mortuary,” Chekov said. McCoy had to fight not to flinch.

“I see,” he said, and held up the hypo. “This is a mild anesthetic to take the edge off. Have any new medicinal allergies cropped up since your last physical?”

“N-no,” Chekov said, sounding confused as McCoy pressed the hypo to his neck.

Which was about the time Chapel let out an outraged squawk and came flying out of inventory, with Kirk close on her heels.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, snatching the (empty) hypo from his hands.

“Treating my patient,” McCoy said, scowling. “What do you think _you’re_ doing?”

“Why in hell’s name are you giving him an anesthetic?” she demanded. “Those are superficial wounds.”

“Superficial? He’s got a broken rib,” he said.

“Which he’d not have gotten if he hadn’t decided to settle some fool argument with his fists,” she said. “You can’t go rewarding behavior like that or next thing you know everyone will be coming in with every little thing, expecting morphine for a paper cut or some such nonsense.”

“You don’t correct behavior by withholding medicine,” he said. “That’s what disciplinary action is for—denying shore leave, or a stint in the brig, or, hell, corporal punishment if you feel like being nasty. Our job is to heal people, not play cops and dumbasses.”

“Perhaps now is not the best time,” Chekov said under his breath, standing.

“You sit your ass back down until I tell you otherwise, Ensign.” McCoy snapped, poking a finger at him, then turned back to Chapel. “And you listen here, missy: until this bullshit transporter hoo-hah has been settled, this is my goddamned Sickbay. We will treat patients to the best of our abilities, with none of this backstabbing and withholding treatment nonsense. Anyone who has a problem with that can take it up with me, y’hear?”

For once, he was grateful for all of the times he’d had to glare Jim into submission. Giving these fools the stink eye was child’s play in comparison.

“I understand that things are done differently in your…where you’re from,” Chapel said, “but we have our own way of doing things, here, and…”

“And that’s all well and good,” McCoy said. “Peachy keen, whatever. Your own way isn’t the way things are going down so long as I’m stuck in this shithole.”

“And your way is liable to get someone killed,” she said, voice reaching a dangerous pitch.

“Then stop me,” he said, chin jutting out. They glared at each other for a few moments, but finally she let out a disgusted noise and threw her hands up, storming away. His hand reached out and snagged Chekov’s collar. “Try to run off one more time, Ensign, I swear to God.”

“You are…quite frightening for a man from a goody two shoes universe,” Chekov said, eyes wide as he let McCoy force him to lie back on the bed.

McCoy snorted. “I’m not frightening. I’m stubborn and bitter and angry, but around here I’d say I’m pretty much the least frightening person around.”

“You glare like my babushka,” Chekov said. “But you are taller.”

“I’ll bet she’s some sort of master assassin, right?” McCoy asked with a roll of his eyes as he adjusted the osteoregenerator’s setting.

“Oh, no, she hardly ever hurt anyone,” Chekov said. “But when she did it was terrible. That is why I say you glare like her, Doctor. With Dr. McCoy—the other Dr. McCoy, I mean—everyone knows what will set him off, what will get you hurt or killed or both. With you…” he trailed off with a shrug. “You have an argument with Nurse Chapel over whether you should be allowed to be kind to me, when the other doctor would probably have made me worse before he made me better. Who knows what will set you off?”

“I made an Oath never to harm, Mr. Chekov,” McCoy said. “There’s nothing you hooligans can do that’d make me break it.”

The corners of Chekov’s mouth curled up into a mysterious smile. “That is what makes you frightening, Doctor.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” McCoy scowled.

Chekov shrugged, and then grimaced as the movement jolted his injuries.

“You’re damn lucky that rib didn’t pierce your lung,” McCoy said, completely unsympathetic. “It’d serve you right if I made you heal the old-fashioned way.”

Chekov pursed his lips together, obviously holding back a laugh. “You argue against using medicine in a disciplinary fashion, then threaten to do just that?”

“You’ll notice I’m not actually making you heal the old-fashioned way,” McCoy said dryly.

“You are very funny, Doctor,” Chekov said. “I think I will ask the Captain if I can guard you.”

“I don’t need a guard,” McCoy said. “And I sure as hell don’t need some kid doing the guarding. I could be your father, you realize.”

“You are not quite that old, I think,” Chekov said. “Besides, I would never guard my papa. We would kill each other and the guarding would be pointless.”

McCoy eyed him for a moment, trying to discern whether he was telling the truth or attempting to make a joke. “Still,” he said after deciding he didn’t particularly want to know, “I’d rather you work on getting me back to my own universe.”

“You don’t like it here?” Chekov asked.

“If I stay here, I’m likely to be murdered in my sleep by half-witted imbeciles who don’t realize killing a doctor is the most ridiculously stupid thing a person could ever do,” McCoy said. “Not to mention the lot of you have the ethical code of Attila the Hun. Of course I don’t like it here.”

Chekov actually had the gall to look hurt.

“Don’t look at me like that,” McCoy said. “You’re evil, goddammit, you shouldn’t be allowed to use puppy eyes on people.”

“I am not evil,” Chekov said.

“Go one week without sending someone to the morgue,” McCoy said. “Then come back to me.”

Chekov pouted for a moment more. His jaw set in a way that reminded McCoy a little too much of Jim when someone presented him with a no-win situation.

“Torturing people counts,” McCoy said, and turned away to the sound of Chekov’s indignant squawk.

(JIM,ITHINKILIKEDHIMWITHAPAGEBREAKBETTER.ITGAVEHIMCHARACTER)

“Chekov is…fond of you,” James said as they ate dinner that night.

“It’s creepy,” McCoy said, taking a vicious bite of his salad.

“You think so?” James asked, lips quirking upward.

“Having a damned master of torture and murder proclaim his fondness for me isn’t exactly what I’d call a desirable situation, James,” McCoy said.

“He doesn’t make such claims often,” James said.

“Not comforting.”

“There are many who would covet that sort of declaration,” James said.

“Would they kill for it?” McCoy asked.

James paused, tilting his head to one side. “Possibly. Do you invite such hostility in your own universe?”

“Don’t know that there’s anyone who actually wants to kill me, barring my ex-wife,” McCoy said. “But I’m not what you might call a likeable person, no.”

“I like you,” James said.

McCoy sighed. “I don’t think you realize how reassuring that is.”

James smirked. “And how reassuring is it, Bones?”

“Not at all,” McCoy deadpanned.

“You’re quite cruel, you know,” James said.

“I’ve been told my bedside manner leaves much to be desired,” McCoy said. “At least, that’s how folks say it when they’re trying to be diplomatic.”

“And when they aren’t?”

“They just call me an asshole,” McCoy said with a wry grin.

“Yet you would risk death to heal any injured man who came to you,” James said. “You would even fight for the privilege.”

“Maybe y’all don’t take oaths seriously, but I do,” McCoy said.

James’ eyes narrowed. “Don’t mistake our disregard of the Hippocratic Oath with a disregard for all oaths, Doctor.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” McCoy said, sneering. “Oaths to kill, oaths for vengeance—I’m sure those are followed to the letter. But the Hippocratic Oath is foolish, and marriage vows can be broken with a damned scalpel—”

“You’re divorced,” James said, lip curling up. “I don’t think you’re quite the person to lecture about keeping marriage vows.”

“I wasn’t the one who wanted a divorce. Jocelyn was,” McCoy said. “Even when I found her sleeping with another man, I never once considered it.”

James frowned.

“I wanted to go to marriage counseling,” McCoy said with a derisive laugh. “But the day of our first appointment her lawyer was there, instead, and a few months later all I had was a few changes of clothes and a shitty excuse for a car that broke down in fucking Iowa.” McCoy shook his head. “I’m not saying I didn’t have a hand in the way our marriage ended, because God knows I did, but I tried.”

“Why would you even bother?” James asked. “She…once one party has broken their vow, the other party is freed from theirs.”

“Maybe that’s the way it works here, but not for me.”

“You mean not there,” James said.

McCoy snorted. “You seem to have a somewhat distorted idea of what my universe is like, James. It’s not all unicorns and rainbows.” He looked away, eyes glazing as he thought of home. “Maybe the only difference between our universes is that y’all are upfront about your evil.”

James stared at him for a long time, but never said anything in response.

(JIM,ITHINKILIKEDHIMWITHAPAGEBREAKBETTER.ITGAVEHIMCHARACTER)

“I can’t take this, anymore,” Chapel said, watching in disgust as McCoy shooed another Ensign out of Sickbay.

“Then take the rest of the day off,” McCoy said nonchalantly, eyes already scanning the PADD on the next patient’s bed.

“Oh, no, I’m not leaving you to wreak havoc on my Sickbay,” Chapel said.

“Wreak havoc?” McCoy asked.

“If the real Dr. McCoy comes back to this mess, he’ll string me up by my nipples and flay me alive,” she said. “You realize I’ve had to order nearly four times the supplies we usually have on hand?”

“That’s horrifying,” McCoy said. “How in the hell have you managed to keep these people alive?”

Chapel gave him a withering look. “The brass is starting to ask questions.”

“So? Tell them these idiots are fighting nearly four times as much,” McCoy said. “Maybe they’ll start putting in regs that make sense instead of ones that just breed contempt and torture and death.”

“You’re taking the rest of the day off,” Chapel said, slapping her hands on his shoulders and turning him toward the doors. “Maybe tomorrow, too. I haven’t decided.”

“I’m not leaving,” McCoy said, planting his feet.

“Yes, actually, you are,” she said. “I don’t care what you do—go lecture the command crew about not sending medical relief to the Xthians.”

“Not _what_?” McCoy bellowed.

She gave him a somewhat superior look. “You heard me. Now go. Bitch like you’ve never bitched before.”

“I’ll be back,” he said, already halfway to the turbolift, and pretended he couldn’t hear her yelling “of course you will” after him. “Of all the fool things to do; not sending medical aid.”

By the time he reached the bridge, his hands were balled into fists at his sides, knuckles white. He was sure his face was bright red, and that the vein in his forehead Jim always laughed at was making an appearance.

“What in the good goddamn is this I hear about us not sending medical aid?” McCoy demanded as he stepped out of the turbolift, all eyes immediately on him.

James’ eyebrows skyrocketed. “That hasn’t officially been announced, yet,” he said.

“The nurses know everything,” McCoy said. “And don’t you damn well dare try to distract me, James Tiberius Kirk. Medical aid. The Xthians. Explain.”

“They’re being stubborn,” James said.

“About what, exactly?” McCoy asked, hackles already rising.

“Mining rights,” James said. “Their planet is rich in dilithium but they’re refusing to give us access. Usually we would light the whole place up, lest someone else succeed where we have failed, but it just so happens that fortune has decided to get rid of them for us.”

“No,” McCoy said. “We have to send a team down—”

“We don’t have to do anything, Dr. McCoy,” James said with an air of finality. “Our orders are clear: we get the dilithium or we destroy Xthia. At least this way the trip won’t have been a total loss.”

“If you won’t send a team down, I’ll go myself,” McCoy said, and turned to do just that only to have a Security Ensign latch onto his arms. “Let me go, goddammit.”

“We have a job to do, Doctor,” James said. “No room for your proclivities.”

“I have a job, too,” McCoy said, throwing himself forward in an attempt to escape the Ensign’s iron grip. It didn’t work. “Damn it, James, you can’t actually think this is the best way to get things done. Strong arming your way through the universe—”

“You really think your way is better?” James scoffed. “So you heal the Xthians, then what? They’re alive, the dilithium is still out of our reach. No-win.”

“And if you kill them, what in the fuck have you gained?” McCoy asked.

“Respect,” James said. “Fear. Other planets see what happens to those who oppose the Empire and give in to us.”

“Except not all planets give in, do they?” McCoy asked. “And even those who do will resent you. They fear you now, but ten years from now? Twenty? Eventually the resentment will have built up so much that they’ll revolt. And maybe you’ll squash one rebellion. Two, three. But your fleet can only stand so much battering before one day one of those uprisings finally breaks you down.”

“That’s the way the universe works, Bones,” James said.

“It doesn’t have to be. Goddammit, it doesn’t have to be.”

“Take him to the brig until this momentary madness of his passes,” James said. McCoy struggled again as the Ensign pushed him forward.

“Captain, perhaps we could let Dr. McCoy go planet side,” Chekov said suddenly.

Everyone swiveled around to look at him.

“It…it won’t hurt anything,” Chekov said. “If he heals them and they still won’t cooperate, we can always kill them. And if they die…no different, right?”

“Unless he contracts the disease,” James said.

“The Xthians’ physiology is quite different from that of humans, Captain,” Spock said. “It is highly unlikely that this illness is one that would affect the doctor.”

“They might kill him to spite us,” Uhura said idly, legs crossed, chin resting on her hand in a gesture of aloof boredom.

“They’re too weak,” Sulu said.

“I can go with him,” Chekov suggested, perking up at the thought. “Just in case.”

“I wouldn’t trust you with the life of one of my Yeoman,” James said. “Much less Bones.”

“I don’t like any of your Yeomen,” Chekov said.

“You could send others with him, as well,” Sulu said. “Some men from Security…”

“I don’t much trust them, either,” James said.

“So you go,” Sulu said.

“And leave the ship with you?” James asked, snorting derisively.

“I would be the more logical choice, Captain,” Spock said.

James seemed to consider it for a moment. “No. The risks outweigh the possible gains.”

“I’m going down to that planet whether you like it or not, James,” McCoy said. “Either set your own terms, now, or hope I don’t end up needing a Security detail. Or at least that if I am wrong you don’t really need me to get your doctor back.”

James surged to his feet, reaching McCoy’s side in the blink of an eye. He grasped McCoy’s chin in his hand, their eyes meeting, stubborn hazel and enraged blue.

“Don’t think to threaten me, Bones,” James said.

“It’s not a threat,” McCoy said. “It’s a statement of fact. People around here have a weird sense of obligation, and I might not much care for the thought of it but I’m not above calling in favors. Not when people’s lives are at stake.”

“You wouldn’t like to have me as an enemy, Doctor,” James said.

“You really want to get on a doctor’s bad side?”

James snorted. “Your morals will stop you from retaliating.”

McCoy thought back to Chekov’s words and forced a smile to his face, twisted and cruel. “You willing to bet your life on that, Captain?”

He was certain he saw a shudder pass through James, and knew without James opening his mouth that the answer was ‘no.’

“That’s the difference between our universes, James,” McCoy said. “Jim and the crew of the USS _Enterprise_ know I’d never hurt anyone. They have faith in me. Here? With you? You won’t—can’t, I suppose—allow yourself to have that sort of trust.”

James’ nostrils flared, his jaw tightening.

“I’ll be in the transporter room in ten minutes,” McCoy said, turning toward the lift. “Your decision if there’s anyone there to watch my back.”

“How about a wager, Dr. McCoy?”

He paused, glancing back at James over his shoulder. “What sort of a wager?”

“If this doesn’t work, and your little altruistic game doesn’t change the Xthians’ minds, you never undermine my decisions again,” James said.

“If it does work?” McCoy asked.

James paused, tongue flicking out over his bottom lip like Jim’s did when he was considering something. “I’ll trust you.”

McCoy stared at him for a moment. Then, with a laugh that was more of a sharp huff of air, he nodded. “Okay,” he said, and entered the turbolift. “Sickbay.”

A hand stopped the doors from fully closing. McCoy gave Chekov a disapproving look as he entered the lift.

“I will join you,” Chekov said, falling into parade rest and staring straight ahead at the doors.

“Kid, you’re going to get yourself killed,” McCoy said. “James—”

“The captain will not kill me,” Chekov said.

“You don’t know that, dammit.”

“Yes, I do,” Chekov said. “I was sent to another ship after the Narada. The captain killed many other navigators before the admiralty sent me back here. Besides, you may have need of me.”

McCoy snorted.

“I am very good with knives, Doctor,” Chekov said.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” McCoy said. “But I don’t see what use a navigator with knives will be in a quarantine.”

“Maybe there will be zombies,” Chekov said, and grinned impishly when McCoy gave him a dry look.

“Maybe they’ll vomit rainbows and bleed gold,” McCoy said with a roll of his eyes.

“That would be ridiculous,” Chekov said seriously, but apparently couldn’t keep himself from giggling at whatever expression had come to McCoy’s face—some mix of exasperation and amusement.

“Zombies not being at all ridiculous, of course,” McCoy said.

“Of course,” Chekov said brightly, sidling closer to McCoy.

McCoy eyed him. “Don’t talk about your proficiency with knives and then come into my space, Ensign.”

“If I wanted to kill you, distance would not be a problem,” Chekov said, regarding McCoy with a barely concealed smile. “But I do not.”

“You people do not understand how to reassure a man of his personal safety in your presence,” McCoy said, trying to hurry off the turbolift without letting on to Chekov that he was hurrying.

“Eh,” Chekov said, close on his heels.

“What’s the big deal?” McCoy asked, using his long strides to put a good two feet of space between them. “You this close with your McCoy?”

“He would hypo me with an unpleasant STI.” Chekov quickened his pace to match McCoy’s. “I am merely fascinated by you, Doctor.”

“You sound like the hobgoblin,” McCoy said. “And for Christ’s sake, call me Bones. When y’all call me anything else you remind me too much of the folks back home and it’s just…” He shook his head. “Call me Bones.”

Chekov’s mouth twitched. “An interesting sobriquet.”

“Jim’s an interesting kind of guy,” McCoy said. “It’s kind of a long, stupid story.”

“Okay,” Chekov said, hopping onto a biobed and watching as McCoy collected the tools he was sure he would need.

“Chapel, have any analyses been done on the Xthians’ sickness?” McCoy asked.

“It’s a particularly virulent strain of Jibvig’s Disease,” Chapel said immediately.

“That’s impossible,” McCoy said, stopping so he could frown at her. “Jibvig’s Disease is a synthetic illness used in biological warfare.”

“It is,” Chapel said.

His eyes narrowed. “You…did you do your thesis on synthetic diseases, here, too?”

“I did,” she said, a hand on her hip. “Jibvig’s is one of my favorites.”

“James ordered you to introduce it to the Xthians,” McCoy said, throat suddenly dry.

“I needed test subjects,” she said with a  shrug. “Jibvig’s only effects species with reptilian physiology, and the Xthians are one of the few sentient reptiles we’ve come into contact with.”

McCoy sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and massaging the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Airborne?”

“Yes, although an Ensign infected the water with it for initial contact,” she said, patting his shoulder almost sympathetically. Any comfort he might have drawn from the gesture was undermined by the malicious glint in her eyes. “Y’all have fun, sir.”

“How can you people stand yourselves?” McCoy asked under his breath, glaring at her back as she sauntered away. Still muttering, he turned back to gathering his supplies.

“Doc—Bones,” Chekov began.

“Don’t talk to me right now,” McCoy said, a hand slicing through the air in an infuriated gesture.

Chekov’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click, eyes impossibly wide, head ducking down until his shoulders were up near his ears.

“Fuck, just…” He pursed his lips together, taking a deep breath. “I’ll have everything I need in a few minutes, but I’d rather not have company until I get to the transporter room.”

Chekov nodded wordlessly, sliding down from the bed and slinking of Sickbay with a few hesitant looks back.

McCoy had to force himself not to collapse against the biobed, though he couldn’t stop the tremor in his hands as he finished gathering his equipment.

Just when he thought the people here were close to _normal_ , like maybe all this death and mayhem was a sick joke, they went and…

God, what was James thinking? Biological warfare on a planet for a few damned dilithium crystals, as if there weren’t hundreds of other planets rich with them.

Although, hell, maybe there weren’t. Maybe they’d blown all of the others up. Maybe conquest used up more dilithium than peace.

His hands gripped the strap of his satchel tightly. Would his counterpart have come up with a disease if he’d been here, instead of Chapel? It was one thing to hurt the parade of idiots coming through Sickbay on an hourly basis; it was a twisted sort of logic, to be sure, but understandable.

Killing an entire planet’s worth of people because of fuel…for _any_ reason…he just couldn’t wrap his head around it.

Maybe he could find a way to destroy the crystals. Even if he had to destroy the planet himself, wouldn’t that be better than giving more power to such a warped society?

He shook his head minutely. Destroying the planet wasn’t the answer. He wouldn’t stoop to their level, mowing people down, putting the end before the means.

“Bones,” James said, reaching toward him as he entered the transporter chambers.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he said, recoiling from James’ hand. “Let’s just get this over with, and then…it’s not going to work, fuck it, I won’t fucking undermine you, anymore.”

“That sort of defeatist attitude won’t do you any favors, Bones,” James said with false bravado.

“Realistic isn’t the same as defeatist,” McCoy said, stepping onto the transporter pad, eyes downcast.

“Sure you still want to go, if you aren’t even going to win?” James asked, forcing a smirk to his lips.

“I have a job to do,” he said firmly, straightening his shoulders. “Energize.”

(JIM,ITHINKILIKEDHIMWITHAPAGEBREAKBETTER.ITGAVEHIMCHARACTER)

McCoy wasn’t generally a person given to queasiness at the sight of blood or any of the numerous disgusting fluids the body produced.

Then again, he’d never treated Jibvig’s Disease, before. Pus-filled boils, vomiting, bloody discharge, the works, and suddenly McCoy was fighting nausea as often as he was the disease itself. It didn’t help that the Xthians had sleek, scaly hides like that of a snake, and were thus in various stages of skin shedding throughout the illness and healing process.

He began smearing Vaseline under his nose an hour or so into the first day, but even the most generous applications were sometimes overwhelmed by the scent of the dead and dying.

“Hand me that,” McCoy said. Snatched a glass of water out of Chekov’s hand and poured it over his own head unceremoniously. The cold shocked him back into full wakefulness. He took large, gulping breaths of air as he wiped the water from his eyes.

“You should sleep,” Chekov said with a disapproving frown, putting a hand on his shoulder to lead him to the tent provided by the Xthians as temporary sleeping quarters for the rescue team.

“Don’t have time,” McCoy said. “Another few hours and there’ll be enough recovered Xthians to take over a good deal of the healing. Then I can take a break.”

“You’ll crash, first,” Chekov said.

“I’ll be fine.” McCoy shrugged him off, pressing a vitamin and energy supplement hypo to his neck. “Tell Gibbon to take inventory and talk to the Council about which indigenous plants can be used to replace our supplies. Now that Jibvig’s has been introduced, it won’t go away no matter what precautions we take. All we can do is prepare them for another outbreak.”

Chekov frowned at him for a moment more before nodding and heading off to find Nurse Gibbon.

“Healer McCoy, Ishthix’s condition has worsened,” called one of the indigenous healers.

“I’ll be right there,” he said, ducking into the healer’s tent long enough to renew the Vaseline under his nose.

“Your medicines are phenomenal,” the healer, Xenthe, said as she watched him prepare a poultice for the worst of Ishthix’s boils.

McCoy paused long enough to glance up at her before returning his attention to the poultice. “I suppose they are,” he said.

“Truly astonishing,” she said, tail flicking.

“Well, watch close so you’ll know how to do it, later,” he said. “We’re going to try to find the indigenous equivalents of all these medicines so you can make your own.”

“We shall have to include those we do not have in our trade agreements with the Empire,” she said.

He nearly dropped the poultice on the floor before he could apply it. “Trade agreements?”

“Of course,” she said. “Our Elders were hesitant, before, because we have heard such bad things about your Empire. But the rumors must be jealous muttering—no one as evil as you have been described would send help so swiftly to a stricken people.”

“Oh,” he said softly, stomach roiling. He began to say more—“don’t do it; they really are evil; oh, God, what have I done?”—but a particularly strong odor struck him before he could form more than the first syllable. He turned and vomited, only half-aware of Xenthe’s panicked call for help before someone forced him onto a stretcher (it wasn’t hard; he was on the verge of passing out) and carried him to the healer’s tent. Voice a pathetic croak, he said, “I’m fine.”

“You’re tired,” Chekov said, his face swimming into view as he pressed a cold compress to McCoy’s forehead. “I told you to rest.”

“Dammit, stop that,” he said, waving Chekov away.

“You must sleep for at least an hour,” Chekov said sternly.

“I must get back to work,” he said.

“Captain’s orders, sir,” Chekov said. “I believe he is going to beam down to personally make sure you aren’t forcing us to lie to him.”

“He’s probably beaming down for the fucking trade agreements,” he said. His whole body shuddered and he rolled over so he could throw up over the side of the bed.

“You’re certain humans can’t contract this disease?” Chekov asked.

“Positive,” McCoy said, suddenly too tired to fight Chekov’s mothering. He sighed shakily, bringing a hand up to cover his eyes. “Shit, I don’t know how the other-me does this.”

“Does what?” Chekov asked.

“Puts up with all of this,” he said, waving his free hand vaguely. He took a deep breath and hoped Chekov couldn’t tell how close he was to crying. No good showing weakness to these people. “I’m sick of it already and I’ve only been here for a few days.”

“We’ve only been on Xthia since yesterday, doctor,” Chekov said.

“I wasn’t talking about Xthia,” he said with a slightly hysterical laugh. “I was talking about… _here_. In this universe. It’s appalling and depressing and…God, I want to…I want to go home.”

Chekov was quiet for a long time. McCoy had run out of things to say, tears streaming out from beneath his hand, throat working furiously to keep the sobs from slipping out, shoulders shaking every few breaths. Hesitantly, Chekov put a hand on McCoy’s hair.

“You have done very good work here, Bones,” Chekov said.

“I’m a goddamned murderer,” McCoy said angrily, rolling over onto his side away from Chekov. “I healed these people, and for what? Now they’re convinced the Empire’s full of nice guys and they’ll give the Xthians dilithium, and the Empire will go on destroying people for no good reason. By saving them I’ve doomed millions.”

“You could have let them die,” Chekov said, reaching out to pat him again but recoiling when McCoy slapped at his hand.

“No, I couldn’t,” McCoy said helplessly. “If it’s in my power to help people, I have to do it. I can’t do anything else, okay?” He shook his head. “I guess you don’t understand…hell, I guess I don’t understand, either. It’s not…logical, or whatever. It’s just the way I am. The way I’ve always been.”

“It is commendable in its own right,” Chekov said, shoving his hands into his armpits.

“No it’s not. If I help them I sentence millions more to death. If I don’t help them they’ll die, but maybe I’ve saved someone else. It’s a fucking no-win situation” He laughed bitterly. “Jim would know what to do. Jim always knows, but I’m not him. I’m fucking useless.”

“Not useless,” Chekov protested weakly.

“In this case I am,” he said. “No matter what I do people will die.”

“You could do nothing,” Chekov said.

“No, I can’t,” he said, voice cracking mid-sentence. “I can’t.”

“Then you can only do your best,” Chekov said. “People will always die, you know.”

“But they don’t have to, Chekov,” he said.

Chekov said nothing, merely sighing.

McCoy shook his head and sat up, standing and wiping his eyes furiously on a sleeve of his shirt. “Back to work,” he said roughly, grabbing a nearby water bottle and splashing his face.

“But…you just said…” Chekov trailed off, eyes wide.

“I just said I have to help people if it’s in my power to do so,” McCoy said firmly. “And it is.”

“What’s what?” James asked as he strode into the tent, expression hard and cold. “Why aren’t you lying down?” He turned on Chekov. “Why isn’t he lying down?”

“No time for a lie-down, Captain,” McCoy said. “There’s work to be done.”

“Not by you, there isn’t,” James said. He sneered at Chekov. “What good are you if you aren’t even doing your job?”

“I was about to—” Chekov began.

“You were about to drag yourself back up to the ship, and immure yourself in whatever duties you can actually carry out,” James said venomously.

“But Bones—”

“That’s Dr. McCoy to you, Ensign,” James said.

“Now see here, James,” McCoy began angrily.

“Lie down, Bones,” James said. His head jerked back to Chekov, words coming out as an angry snarl. “Why are you still here?”

“S-sorry, sir,” Chekov sputtered, ducking out of the tent with one last worried glance at McCoy.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing, James?” McCoy asked.

“I’m ordering you to take a fucking nap,” James said.

“Stupid ain’t a good look on you, Captain,” McCoy said icily. “There wasn’t a damned reason for you to treat Chekov the way you did.”

“He likes you,” James said. “That’s reason enough.”

“You’re going to bite the head off of everyone I get along with?” McCoy asked. “It’s a short list, I’ll give you that, but—”

“No, he _likes_ you,” James said. “And _that_ I’ll bite people heads off for, Bones.”

“He…” McCoy gaped at him incredulously. “Are you high?”

“He is quite literally a teenager with a disgusting little boy-crush,” James said.

“He’ll get over it,” McCoy said. “Quicker if you don’t run him off. I’m not a likeable person.”

James snorted.

“Besides, it’s none of your business if someone takes a liking to me,” McCoy said, though he rolled his eyes at the thought.

“It is,” James said, fisting a hand in McCoy’s shirt and pulling him close. “You’re mine, Bones.”

Bones’ brow furrowed. “Yours?”

“Mine,” James said. “As I am yours. Is that not how it works in your world?”

“No, it’s not,” McCoy said. “I don’t belong to anyone. I’m not a goddamned possession, I’m a person.”

“People can be owned,” James said.

McCoy made a disgusted noise. “Of course slavery persists, here. God, you people are barbaric.”

“We aren’t—”

“Oh, you are,” McCoy said. “It’s pathetic, really, and the saddest part is how you think you’re so civilized. You look down on me for healing people, but you know what? Killing people is easy. Destroying things is fucking child’s play. Putting people back together? Creating things? That’s hard, James. That’s what civilization is.”

“You’re more advanced than we are, then?” James asked. “You’ve made it farther in the medical field, is that right? Because as far as I can tell you’re using exactly the same equipment as we are. Your civilization hasn’t done a damn thing more than ours.”

McCoy scoffed, rolling his eyes and attempting to push past James. “I have work to do, James; I don’t have time to argue with you.” He looked down at where James still had hold of his shirt. “Let go.”

“Right now, your only job is to take a fucking nap,” James said, pushing him down on the bed roughly. “Now go to sleep, because I swear to God I will tie you down to this bed if you try to get up one more goddamn time.”

“James—”

“Sleep, Bones.” James straightened, eyeing McCoy for a moment before deeming it safe to fully relinquish his hold on McCoy’s shirt. “I’m going to talk to the Council about that trade agreement.”

McCoy sat up so fast he was dizzy for a moment, blinking hard as he tried to focus on James. “James, you can’t.”  
  
“Can’t what?” James asked.  
  
“The trade agreement. Please don’t go through with it,” McCoy said.  
  
“Changed your tune awfully fast,” James said.  
  
“There are lives at stake,” he said. “You have to see reason, James. Let’s just leave the Xthians alone.”  
  
“I’d be dooming the entire ship,” James said, and clicked his tongue when he saw McCoy’s expression. “Didn’t think of that, did you? The Empire doesn’t smile on those who fail, Bones, or those who walk away from a job. We only have two options: destroy the Xthians, or trade with them.”  
  
“Jim would—”  
  
“Jim isn’t here,” James said loudly.  
  
“I can tell,” McCoy yelled back, and turned his back on James, pulling the pillow over his head in spite of how it made him feel like a petulant five year old. (It was either that or booze, and James wouldn’t let him use his counterpart’s hip flask.) The sensory deprivation, slight though it was, made him hyper aware of the hand James put on his leg. Viciously, he kicked out, catching James at what he assumed was the other man’s hip. “Don’t touch me, you murderous son of a bitch. Go make your father proud.”  
  
He heard James’ sharp intake of breath and held tighter to the pillow, waiting for a blow that never came. Instead, silence descended over the tent.  
  
When he finally withdrew his head from the pillow, James was gone.

(OFCOURSE,ALMOSTANYPAGEBREAKWOULDBEADISTINCTIMPROVEMENT)

“To a successful mission,” James said with an obviously forced smile, raising his glass.  
  
“To Dr. McCoy,” Chekov said, flinching a moment later—Sulu had kicked him under the table.  
  
“Don’t toast me,” McCoy said without looking up from his meal.  
  
“You should celebrate your victory, doctor,” Uhura said. “After all, you did what even your own counterpart would not have been able to do. And won your little wager with our esteemed captain.”  
  
“Oh, yeah, the wager,” he said disdainfully. “Of course that was my only concern throughout this entire venture.”  
  
“Naturally,” she said. “It was the only worthwhile part of this entire venture.”  
  
He stood, snatching up his tray and knocking his drink over in the process. He ignored it even as James, who had been splashed, let out a cry of dismay. “You know, you’d think people who spend half their time verbally tearing people down would have a better grasp of the concept of sarcasm.”  
  
With that he turned and stormed out of the Mess, all but slamming his tray into the recycler.  
  
He went to Sickbay, rage pouring off him in waves. There he proved that, yes, it was possible to heal people and still make them rue whatever idiotic thing they’d done to land themselves in Medical. He even saw Chapel giving him look of surprised approval at one point, though he tried to ignore it. He was pretty sure he shouldn’t take it as a compliment even if she meant it as one.  
  
Chekov came down about an hour later. McCoy met his gaze, all but stabbing a hypo into an Ensign’s neck as he did, and Chekov’s eyes grew impossibly wide. Clearing his throat, he muttered something that might have been a greeting or possibly the Russian equivalent of “oh fuck no” and promptly turned and left.  
  
Chapel laughed.  
  
Another three hours passed before his manic, fury-fueled energy finally began to run out. Naturally, James (like Jim) sensed it, and was waiting in the hallway when McCoy said his goodbyes and stalked out with every intention of going to his room and sleeping forever. Or at least until this whole mess was over.  
  
“Bones,” James said, falling into step with him.  
  
“I’m not happy to see you,” McCoy said flatly. “That’s a hypo in my pocket.”  
  
James choked on a laugh. “Of course it is,” he said. McCoy gave him an unimpressed look, and James’ mouth pulled to one side in an attempt not to laugh again. He adjusted his footsteps so he was closer to McCoy, their shoulders brushing almost innocuously. “You have my trust, Bones. You earned it.”  
  
McCoy snorted. “You can keep it.”  
  
“So quick to turn it down,” James said. “You’re breaking my heart, Bones.”  
  
“You don’t have one,” McCoy said.  
  
“Says you.” James actually sounded hurt.  
  
“You do realize I spent all day watching children die?” McCoy asked. “The vaccine only works for kids when they haven’t gotten sick, yet. Their immune systems just don’t…reptilian immune systems are weak enough to start with; those kids didn’t stand a chance.”  
  
“He will by no means leave the guilty unpunished, visiting the iniquity of fathers on the children and on the grandchildren to the third and fourth generations,” James said.  
  
“You’re quoting the Bible. Really?” McCoy asked. “ _Really_? Okay, then: The person who sins will die. The son will not bear the punishment for the father’s iniquity, nor will the father bear the punishment for the son’s iniquity; the righteousness of the righteous will be upon himself, and the wickedness of the wicked will be upon himself.”  
  
“Are you calling me wicked, Bones?” James asked.  
  
“Wicked isn’t nearly a strong enough word for what you are, James,” McCoy said.  
  
“You really are a curious person, Bones.” James chuckled, pausing to type in the code to their rooms. “I wonder…do you truly understand the power of a man’s trust? I suppose in your universe it’s something of a given, but here it can be a very powerful thing.”  
  
“And I’m supposed to take your word that you trust me?” McCoy asked. “You might think me naïve but my mama didn’t raise no fool.”  
  
James’ eyebrow arched. “Well, how do you propose I prove myself to you?”  
  
McCoy stared at him for a moment.  
  
“Anything, Bones. I do trust you,” James said.  
  
“You know I think you’re a deplorable human being—possibly not worthy of the title of human being—who deserves death?” McCoy asked as he pulled the hypo out of his pocket.  
  
“Yes,” James said. He really did look hurt by the idea.  
  
“You know I’ve killed people before?” McCoy asked. “It isn’t something I do lightly, nor something I take pleasure in, but I have done it.”  
  
James snorted. “I didn’t know that, no.”  
  
“Assisted suicide,” McCoy said. “Self-defense. The defense of those closest to me.” He held the hypo up a few inches away from James’ neck. “You…I think killing you would save millions.”  
  
“Maybe,” James said. He reached up and pushed McCoy’s hand closer.  
  
Their eyes met and held, their soft breathing the only sound in the room.  
  
McCoy pulled the trigger. He allowed himself a moment to enjoy the expression on James’ face—shock, betrayal—before he said, “if you’d eat your goddamned vegetables, I wouldn’t have had to do that.”  
  
A slightly hysterical, slightly relieved laugh burst from James’ mouth. “Chekov’s right,” he said. “You are fucking terrifying, Bones.”  
  
McCoy grunted noncommittally and reloaded the hypospray. “And this is because you didn’t go to Sickbay when you got back, you suicidal moron,” he said as it released, ignoring James’ protests.  
  
“You could be gentler,” James said, pouting as he rubbed his neck.  
  
“You could stop being such an infant,” McCoy said. “But somehow I don’t see that happening, so I reserve the right to use excessive force.”  
  
“You aren’t allowed to use excessive force,” James said. “That Hippocratic Oath bull—stuff.”  
  
“The Hippocratic Oath says nothing about bedside manner,” McCoy said. “And neither does anything else.”  
  
“And you’d know, wouldn’t you?”  
  
“I may or may not have had my methods called to question in court,” McCoy said. “On account of being a raging asshole. Which may or may not be a direct quote from a disgruntled ex-patient whom I may or may not have told was an idiotic hypochondriac who needed psychiatric help, not medicinal.”  
  
“Terrifying and _sassy_ ,” James said.  
  
McCoy hummed and let himself drop back onto the bed with a weary sigh. Rolling over onto his side, he said, “I’m going to go to sleep, now. If you get any inclination to wake me up, please keep in mind that I have one hypo left which could hypothetically contain a Melvaran mud flea vaccine, which you might hypothetically have a severe allergic reaction to.”  
  
“You can’t sleep like that,” James said.  
  
“Sure I can,” McCoy said without moving anything other than his mouth. “Close my eyes, count some sheep…”  
  
“I mean you can’t…you either take the far side of the bed and face away from the door or stay there and face the door,” James said.  
  
McCoy frowned and cracked his eyes open, turning his head to give James a confused and mildly annoyed look. “Why?”  
  
“Because that’s how we sleep,” James said. “Me and…the other you.”  
  
“You didn’t care before,” McCoy said.  
  
“I’ve been sleeping on the couch for the past four days,” James said. “But I can trust you not to stab me in the back, now…” He paused and gave McCoy a suspicious look. “I can trust you not to stab me in the back with something that will kill me, now, anyway. And the couch is fucking uncomfortable. I’ve given my Yeoman orders to purchase a new one at the next star base, but that’s another two days away, and seriously, fuck that shit.”  
  
“Oh,” McCoy said. “Why don’t we just push it into that corner?” He pointed at a relatively clear corner of the room.  
  
“Someone could burrow through the walls.”  
  
“You really just said that with a  straight face,” McCoy said. “I’m…actually kind of impressed.”  
  
James scowled.  
  
“No, really. You think neither of us would hear someone burrowing through the walls? I seriously doubt there is any sort of equipment that could pull it off quietly, and I’m willing to bet you’re a light sleeper.”  
  
“Are you?” James asked.  
  
“I’m a doctor, James. Sleeping heavily is a luxury I can’t afford,” McCoy said, rolling his eyes. “Broke the habit right quick during my residency.”  
  
James looked at the corner, then at the bed, eyes narrowing. “How will we sleep?”  
  
“However we want to,” McCoy said. “Would you feel more comfortable if I faced the foot of the bed?”  
  
“Your feet stink,” James said.  
  
“Alright,” McCoy said. “But I warn you: I sometimes cuddle in my sleep.”  
  
James jerked back, face morphing into an expression McCoy could only describe as positively mortified.  
  
McCoy cocked his head to one side. “What?”  
  
“You…” James shook his head, backing away from the bed. “I’ll just…sleep on the couch again. It’s only for two more days. I’ll be fine.”  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous,” McCoy said.  
  
“I’m not being ridiculous, you twisted fuck,” James said. “ _Cuddling_.”  
  
McCoy frowned, eyebrows bunching together. “I’m missing something. You have an aversion to cuddling?”  
  
“They have special clubs for that,” James said. “The kind of club people use pseudonyms for because if someone finds out they like it, other people make…assumptions.”  
  
McCoy stared at him, and then started laughing, softly at first but swiftly growing louder. Finally giving in, he threw his head back. He put his hands over his mouth to stifle the full-on guffaws that had overtaken him.  
  
“You’re a sick man, Leonard McCoy,” James said.  
  
“No, I just—” He couldn’t continue, tears of mirth streaming from his eyes. His hands fell to clutch at his sides. “Oh, God. Cuddling is a kink, here. That’s so fucking rich. I can’t wait to tell Jim; he’s going to laugh for hours.”  
  
“It isn’t funny,” James said, hissing the words out through his teeth. His eyes darted around the room, suddenly paranoid. “I’m serious, Bones.”  
  
“You’re being ridiculous,” McCoy said again. He reached out and grabbed James’ hand, yanking him down onto the bed and laughing again at James’ squawk of protest.  
  
Overpowering James’ struggles through sheer force of will, he manhandled James into a position on his side. Arms tight around James’ waist, McCoy pressed his front to James’ back, curling their legs together.  
  
James was rigid in his arms.  
  
“I can feel you blushing,” McCoy said, smirking when James shivered.  
  
James grunted, wriggling uncomfortably.  
  
“Here,” McCoy said. He curled an arm under their heads, keeping the other around James’ waist but tangling their fingers together. He let his head tilt forward, lips close to brushing the base of James’ neck.  
  
“Pervert,” James said under his breath, shifting again.  
  
“Go to sleep,” McCoy said. “We can argue fetishes tomorrow.”  
  
“You have a fetish for cuddling?” James asked, voice a dangerously high pitch.  
  
“James,” McCoy said, laughing out the name. “Sleep.”  
  
“I didn’t think you’d be into forcing people like this,” James said.  
  
McCoy frowned, pulling away abruptly. He rolled over and faced the wall, hyper aware of when James rolled a little to look back at him.  
  
“What?” James asked.  
  
“Overstepped my boundaries, obviously,” he said, fully aware of the childish sullenness in his tone. “I don’t force—I didn’t realize—I’m sorry.”  
  
James turned away again. “Yeah, well. I guess it wasn’t…I mean, it did feel kind of…” He huffed and cleared his throat loudly. “I still don’t like it.”  
  
McCoy’s mouth twitched. “Just hit me with a pillow if I sleep-cuddle.”  
  
“Okay,” James said. He shifted around for a moment until their backs were touching, and then seemed to relax into the mattress.  
  
“I think you’re a pervert, too,” McCoy said quietly. James let out an exaggerated snore, and McCoy rolled his eyes.  
  
Perverse cuddling. What would they think of next?  
  
(OFCOURSE,ALMOSTANYPAGEBREAKWOULDBEADISTINCTIMPROVEMENT)

He woke to James’ hair in his face. His chest pressed to James’ back. His arm around James’ waist. Their legs tangled together.

James, miraculously, seemed to be sleeping deeply, heedless of both the cuddling and the morning wood pressing into the crease of his ass.

Groggy, McCoy pressed his nose to the nape of James’ neck, allowing himself a moment to bask in the other man’s warmth.

But the moment couldn’t last long. He pulled away, mouth twitching to suppress a smile when James grumbled irritably.

He was sure he wouldn’t be able to crawl out of the bed without James waking, and his bladder didn’t seem to have woken up, yet. So, imagining cold water and every unappealing image he could possibly call to mind, he rolled over.

And started when James followed suit, throwing a leg over top of McCoy’s and burrowing his face into the base of McCoy’s neck. There was also definitely a half-hard prick rubbing against him.

He swallowed thickly. It had been…a damn long time. And, sure, Jim was his best friend, but that didn’t mean he didn’t sometimes think…want… _need_ …

James groaned wordlessly behind him, hips thrusting minutely.

McCoy gritted his teeth together and pulled away again. Rolled back over and shoved James off of the bed.

James squawked as he was forcefully awoken by the floor. Scrambled to his feet brandishing a phaser; God only knew where he’d gotten the damn thing.

“Cranky in the mornings, are you?” McCoy asked, cocking an eyebrow at him when James pointed the phaser at him.

“What?” James asked blearily. He had a spectacular cowlick, and his shirt was twisted awkwardly around his torso. He looked ridiculous.

McCoy rolled his eyes. Then he rolled the rest of him, waving a hand at James. “Now that’s done, I’m going back to sleep.”

“Why’d you kick me out of the bed if you’re just going back to sleep?” James asked. “Fuck, what time—I don’t have to be on the Bridge for another three hours, Bones.”

“You were cuddling me,” McCoy said. “And humping my leg, which let me tell you is quite a feat. Although not one I’m surprised you can pull off. I just didn’t want to upset your delicate sensibilities.”

“I was—I do not cuddle,” James said.

McCoy gave him a dry look. “And who do you suppose is the expert on cuddling, between the two of us? Pretty sure I can recognize it, thanks.”

“You were probably cuddling me,” James said.

“Doesn’t mean you weren’t cuddling me back,” McCoy said. “And I tried to get out of it out of deference to you, I’ll have you know. But you came after me. So there.”

James sputtered for a moment.

“James, just get back in bed and go back to sleep,” McCoy said. “You aren’t a sexual deviant just because your body sought out heat while you were sleeping, alright? It’s perfectly natural, and I’m tired of teasing you. And just plain tired, to be honest.”

“You would be just as flustered if you woke up tying me to the bed or something,” James said.

“No one hog ties someone in their sleep; that’s an idiotic idea even for you,” McCoy said. “And I’ll have you know that sort of thing has its place. Just because I don’t believe in killing people for no reason doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy the occasional round of ropes and chains. It’s not particularly appealing to me, but that’s just a personal preference. Nothing to do with a taboo or what have you.”

“You confuse me, Bones,” James decided.

“BDSM and cuddling aren’t mutually exclusive,” McCoy said. “Hell, I was holding you but good last night. Could be counted as light restraint.”

“But—”

“Go to sleep before I hug you, goddamn,” McCoy said, and snorted when he heard James’ teeth click together.

The room was quiet for a few moments—probably a good five minutes. McCoy was almost proud.

“So what’s it like?” James asked.

McCoy sighed. “What’s what like?”

“Cuddling and…and all that,” James asked.

McCoy turned his head as far as it’d go. “Are you saying you want to cuddle?”

“I’m just asking,” James said.

“It’s kind of…warm, I guess?” McCoy asked. “Don’t you know?”

“No,” James said.

“Kid, are you telling me you’ve never cuddled, before? Ever? Not even with your mother?”

James snorted. “My mother was too busy hunting my father’s killer to cuddle, Bones.”

“That’s just downright depressing,” McCoy said. He couldn’t imagine—some of his fondest childhood memories were of cuddling up to his mother as she read a story to him or sang to him. “And you and other-me never cuddle?”

“Of course we don’t,” James said. “It’s perverse.”

“Jim and I aren’t…like that…but I used to love cuddling with Jocelyn,” McCoy said, and knew immediately it was the wrong thing to say as James stiffened at his side.

“Leonard never had that luxury,” James said. “She’d have cut his heart out.”

McCoy laughed bitterly. “Well, I guess that’s one thing that holds true across the multiverse.”

“I wouldn’t know,” James said. “I never had the pleasure of meeting her.”

“Other-me killed her before you got the chance,” McCoy said. Tried to imagined killing Jocelyn, even the night he’d walked in on her and Clay; the day she convinced the judge not to give him so much as partial custody of Joanna.

An icy feeling settled in his gut as he realized he could imagine it all too easily.

“I’d say it was probably best for her, that way,” James said. “But Leonard can be quite cruel when he’s of a mind. I’m sure he gave her everything she deserved and then some. Perhaps I’d have been a blessing.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.” In his mind’s eye, he dragged a scalpel along the skin of Jocelyn’s stomach.

“What else did you do?” James asked. “Besides cuddling, I mean.”

“Back before things went to hell?” McCoy asked. James nodded. “I can remember playing footsy when we first started dating. Pretending to watch a movie in my dorm room but spooning on the couch and making out, instead.” He sighed. “There were good times back then. More good than bad. I really thought…I really thought she loved me.”

“Maybe she did,” James said. “Whatever your universe’s love is; maybe she felt that for you.”

“She loved the idea of me,” McCoy said. “A rich doctor to her sweet housewife. Didn’t quite meet with her expectations that I preferred being a poor country doctor.”

“A poor country doctor?” James asked.

“Reckon I was a bigwig, here,” McCoy said, making a face. “Never cared much for it, myself. All the kowtowing and whatnot that goes with being rich and famous in the medical world. It’s not so bad in Starfleet, I guess, but it was nice being the only person I had to answer to. Even when I got paid with a chicken or something instead of credits.”

“Sounds distasteful,” James said.

“Doesn’t matter, anymore,” McCoy said. “I’m a ‘Fleeter, now, for better or worse.”

James grunted. McCoy looked back at him again as he felt the bed shift. James was facing him, now, a pinched expression on his face.

“So how does this cuddling stuff work?” he asked, lips pressed together in a thin line. “I just…press up against you?”

McCoy rolled his eyes and reached back, grabbing hold of one of James’ arms and pulling it around himself. “Like this,” he said, stifling a smile as he felt James fidgeting uncomfortably behind him. “I’m not used to being the little spoon.”

“Little…spoon?” James asked.

“This is called spooning,” McCoy said.

“Why?” James asked, sounding utterly bewildered.

“Because we’re kind of in the shape of two spoons pressed together,” McCoy said. “Get closer, kid, you ain’t gotta leave room for Jesus.”

“I don’t think Jesus would have approved of spooning,” James said even as he allowed McCoy to maneuver them closer together.

“Oh, hush,” McCoy said, forcing a foot between James’ calves.

“Why aren’t you used to being the little spoon?” James asked.

“Jocelyn was always the little spoon,” McCoy said.

“Why?”

“I guess because she was smaller than me? We never really talked about it.” He shrugged.

“Can I…?” James leaned his head forward so it rested in the crook of McCoy’s shoulder.

“Now you’re getting it,” McCoy said with a contented sigh. If he was absolutely honest with himself, this was what he missed the most about his relationship with Jocelyn, even toward the end. There was just something cathartic about being wrapped up in someone. It was simple, and comforting in its simplicity.

Comforting wasn’t quite the word James would have used, apparently.

“Are you getting hard?” McCoy asked.

James didn’t answer—the bulge pressing into McCoy’s backside, however, did.

“You are,” McCoy said. “You’re actually getting hard.”

“Can’t help it,” James said somewhat breathlessly.

McCoy contemplated shoving James back off of the bed.

Then again, he hadn’t gotten laid in ages, and his own universe’s Jim wasn’t likely to offer anytime soon; not so long as there was a line of willing alien princesses and the like parading through his chambers.

“So?” McCoy asked, rocking his hips a little. “You going to do something about it?”

“Can I?” James asked again.

“Yeah,” McCoy said. “Yeah, just…it’s been a long time…”

“Okay,” James said, and moved away for a moment. McCoy heard a drawer open and close. “How’d you and the ex do this?”

“We never did anything like this,” McCoy said with a snuffling laugh. “How do you and other-me do it?”

James laughed. “We’ve never done anything like this.”

“We’re both in good company, then,” McCoy said. He rolled over onto his back and grabbed James by the neck, pulling the other man on top of him. “You want to undress me?”

“Okay,” James said, fumbling a little as he yanked off McCoy’s shirt.

“Kiss me,” McCoy said as he arched up to help get the shirt over his head. He pulled away when the kiss proved to be brutal. “You ever tried being gentle, kid? I ain’t too fond of bruises.”

“Weird,” James said, but his next kiss was almost feather light. He pawed at McCoy’s pants.

“Jeez, kid, this ain’t a race,” McCoy said. “Take it slow. Where’s your sense of romanticism?”

“This isn’t romantic?” James asked.

“It’s sad how earnest you sound right now,” McCoy said. “Here, let me—or is bottoming some weird thing for you?”

“No, go right ahead,” James said, allowing McCoy to switch their positions with an expression of mild amusement on his face. “I thought topping might be a weird thing for you.”

“Is it for other-me?” he asked. He stood up and shimmied out of his pants. It wasn’t very sexy, given the barely suppressed smile on James’ face, but he was a doctor, not a stripper.

“No,” James said as McCoy crawled over him. “Leonard usually tops. But you two are…very different in many ways. I thought this might be one of them.”

“Mm,” McCoy said, and kissed him. Peppered him with kisses, sometimes lingering for a short time but never long enough for James to truly kiss him back. “So if cuddling’s a kink, here, sweet nothings must be like dirty talk, right?”

“What?” James asked.

McCoy crouched over him, his arms on either side of James’ head, their eyes meeting. “You’re beautiful, James.”

“Oh,” James said breathily, pupils dilating.

“So beautiful,” McCoy said. He pushed James’ shirt up slowly, pressing open-mouthed kisses to James’ skin as it was revealed to him. “Just want to curl up next to you and make love, sweet and slow. Would you like that?”

James nodded jerkily, hair jutting out ridiculously from the collar of his shirt dragging over his head. He locked his arms around McCoy’s neck and pulled him down, crushing their lips together.

“I said be gentle,” McCoy murmured into James’ mouth. He pulled away despite James’ protests to help James out of his pants, following the hem of James’ pants with his mouth just as he had before with James’ shirt. “You’ll have to let me give you a massage sometime. You’re damn tense, sugar.”

“I want you in me, now,” James said, spreading his legs wantonly. He groaned when McCoy fumbled with the lube. “Don’t bother, I just…I want…oh, oh.”

McCoy watched, fascinated, as James arched into his finger. He added a second, then a third, crooking them in search of James’ prostate but not finding it until James huffed out “Left, to the left, yeah.”

“Now,” James said, whined, eyes screwed shut. His mouth dropped open to let out a frustrated groan as his eyebrows furrowed. “Bones, please.”

“Hush up and let me take my time taking care of you, James,” McCoy said, sucking on James’ bottom lip. “Going to have to learn you some patience, sugar.”

“No,” James said as McCoy began to press in. “No, wait. Can’t we…?”

“Can’t we what?” McCoy asked, shaking slightly with the self-restraint it took not to just thrust himself home.

“Can’t we,” James said again, shifting slightly to one side like he was about to roll over. “Like you said?”

It took McCoy a moment longer to catch on. “Curl up together, you mean? Won’t be terribly comfortable, you know.”

James shrugged, eyelids fluttering as he let McCoy maneuver him onto his side. He raised one leg up and braced his foot against McCoy’s thigh, sighing quietly as McCoy lined himself back up and slid inside.

McCoy had to stop for a moment, biting his bottom lip. “Tell…tell me when I can move,” he said.

“Go,” James said. “Go now, I can take it. You.” He squirmed, turning his face into the pillow. “You feel so good.”

“You, too, sugar,” McCoy said with a roll of his hips that made both of them moan. “I could stay right here forever.”

“Yeah?” James asked.

“Yeah.” He hooked his hand around James’ leg, curling his other arm under James’ head. He was keeping a slow pace, leisurely, but the coil of want in his gut was growing tighter and tighter. “You close, sugar? Going to come for me?”

James whined incomprehensibly.

“Can you come without touching yourself?” McCoy asked. “Just for me, darlin’? I’ll bet you can.”

One of James’ hands shot back to grasp at McCoy’s shoulder.

“Come on.” James let out a helpless, breathless sob. McCoy leaned forward so his mouth was right next to James’ ear. “I love you.”

James came with a shout, clenching hard around McCoy, who followed him into oblivion.

(OFCOURSE,ALMOSTANYPAGEBREAKWOULDBEADISTINCTIMPROVEMENT)

She was different from Jo-Jo in many ways, but Joanna was still his daughter. She made the same faces, often responded to things in the same way. There were enough similarities that the differences—though starkly obvious—were ignorable.

One of the things she shared with Jo-Jo (and with McCoy himself) was her interest in medicine. She was a bit more bloodthirsty in this interest, of course, but it was something they had in common when in so many other ways there was absolutely nothing.

“How do you know how much anesthesia to use?” she asked as she watched him administer a hypo to an Engineer with a large burn running up his right arm.

“There are several different variables,” McCoy said. “Body weight, the severity of the pain, etc. Species is a big one. If I give this same dosage,” he held up the used hypo, “to a human, a Vulcan, and a Klingon, the human—as you can see—gets drowsy and a bit loopy. The Vulcan, on the other hand, would be completely unaffected. And the Klingon would get fighting mad. Not that it takes much for a Klingon to get fighting mad, mind you.”

She giggled. “Can you teach me, Papa Bones?”

“No,” he said.

“Why not?” she asked with an all-too-familiar pout.

“Because you’re too young,” he said. “And because I don’t trust you not to use the knowledge to kill someone or something equally unpleasant.”

“I’m going to learn eventually,” she said. “Or maybe I’ll just experiment until I figure it out. Trial and error.”

He suppressed a shudder. Just when he thought he was growing accustomed to this universe, his other-daughter hinted at using people for lab rats.

“Well, when your father and I switch back you can ask him to teach you,” he said. “I’m going to pretend you’re sweet and innocent and wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

She laughed.

“You are sweet, though,” he said, ruffling her hair. “You try to hide it, but a dad always knows.”

 “Don’t heal it all the way or Nurse Chapel will get cross again,” she said, watching him run the regen over the Ensign’s arm.

“Don’t much care if she does,” he said. “Flex that arm for me, Rogers. Good. I’ve got a salve here that you’re to put on it every morning for the next week. The regen healed the skin but this’ll make sure it retains its normal elasticity and doesn’t dry out.”

“Yes, sir,” Ensign Rogers said, twisting his healed arm to get a closer look at the new, pink skin. “Thank you, sir.”

“Just doing my job,” McCoy said, waving him off. “I’d like you to come in when that salve runs out and check in with someone, make sure everything’s looking alright. You’re also due some boosters, soon, so you can get those out of the way. Alright?”

“Yes, sir,” Rogers said. “Could you…maybe do the boosters, now?”

“Don’t be a pussy, Rogers,” Joanna said. McCoy frowned at her, and she said, “he just wants you to do it because you’re nicer than the nurses.”

“Am I?” McCoy asked. He’d have to tell Jim about this when he got home—not that Jim would ever believe him.

“They’ll probably accidentally give him something he’s allergic to,” she said with a nod. “Or worse, since you’re letting him off easy right now.”

McCoy rolled his eyes, but a glance at Rogers’ face told him it was true. “Ridiculous,” he muttered even as he retrieved the boosters and loaded a hypo with the first. He quickly checked Rogers’ file; this booster was one that caused an allergic reaction in a fair percentage of the population. Wouldn’t do to cause Rogers the same pain he was doing this to avoid.

“Do you really have to switch back?” she asked. “We could send someone else, instead.”

“I don’t think it works like that, darlin’,” he said. He opened his mouth to say something else. Stopped when he felt something press into the small of his back. He was about to make a joke about phasers in pockets until he saw the wide-eyed expression on Joanna’s face.

“Don’t move, please, doctor,” someone—someone not James, not familiar at all—said. He saw Chapel start towards them. Shook his head at the same time as the man behind him said, “I wouldn’t, Nurse.”

“What’re you doing?” McCoy asked.

“Scuttlebutt has it you’re going home, soon,” the man turned him around slowly. It took him a moment to put a name to the face—Jonathon Goodkind, a communications ensign. This universe’s incarnation had several light scars, mostly on his neck and the knuckles of his right hand. “Thought now would be the best time to take you out. I’m not exactly looking forward to the good doctor’s return, you see.”

“Wonderful,” McCoy said through gritted teeth. “I just convinced James I _don’t_ need a bodyguard. He’s going to be insufferable.”

“You won’t have to listen to him,” Goodkind said. “You’ll be dead.”

“This universe doesn’t understand the meaning of reassurance, does it?” McCoy asked. “At least let Joanna leave, first. She shouldn’t have to see—”

“She’s going to see a lot worse,” Goodkind said. “Possibly even do a lot worse, if she survives without daddy around to keep anyone from doing her but good.”

McCoy went completely still. His hand went tight around the hypo in his hand. He tried to remember Goodkind’s file. Allergies, allergies…

“This is a stupid idea,” Joanna said. “Have you no sense of decorum? Everyone can see you, you dimwit. If you think James is going to—”

“Shut her up, O’Brian,” Goodkind said.

McCoy turned around just as Joanna said “hey, let me go.” Watched her wrench away from another man’s hand on her arm. He grabbed at her. The motion pushed her over. Her head hit the floor with a loud crack. McCoy saw red.

Goodkind had lowered the phaser slightly, possibly startled by the sound Joanna’s head had made. He had no time to react when McCoy turned. McCoy stabbed the hypo into his neck. Smacked the phaser away when Goodkind tried to raise it. Paused long enough to watch Goodkind gasp and redden, neck already swelling. Turned back to O’Brian.

There was a bedpan on the otherwise empty biobed to his right. He picked it up. O’Brian’s eyes were wide, trained on Goodkind’s wheezing form.

McCoy brought the bedpan around in a wide arc. Sneered at the solid thumping sound the metal made when it connected with O’Brian’s skull. He swung again, sending the man to the floor. He was dimly aware of the sound of phaser fire—these two weren’t the only ones involved in the coup—but he couldn’t seem to stop hitting O’Brian. Again and again until someone grabbed his wrist.

He stopped and looked down.

O’Brian’s face was hardly recognizable, but his chest was rising and falling in strained motions.

“It’s okay, Bones,” James said. The hand on McCoy’s wrist was James’, he saw when he looked up.

He took a deep breath, gut churning. “Joanna?”

“Chapel’s got her,” James said. “Rogers grabbed O’Brian’s phaser and took out two of the other dissenters and Chapel contacted the Bridge.”

“This wasn’t a very well thought out coup,” he said.

“They weren’t expecting you to fight back with a bedpan,” James said with an amused but wary smile.

McCoy’s eyes went to his hand. The bedpan and the floor and McCoy himself were smeared with blood. He could feel his hands begin to shake, but forced himself to stand. “Help me get him up onto the biobed.”

“What?” James asked, frowning. “Bones, he just—”

“Just help me,” McCoy said. James wouldn’t understand. Couldn’t understand.

This wasn’t McCoy. Violence and cruelty and—it wasn’t in McCoy’s nature, and he wasn’t going to let himself give into the savage customs of this universe. Not now; not even if he never got to go back home.

“He tried to hurt—”

“Just shut up and help me, James,” he said. James must have heard the waver in his voice, because his mouth closed and he helped McCoy lift O’Brian onto the table. “Thank you. Now get the hell out and tell Chapel not to dally with Goodkind’s antihistamine.”

“Excuse me?” James asked.

“You heard me,” McCoy said, already drawing the privacy curtains closed. “Doctor-patient confidentiality. You have no place here at the moment, Captain, so if you’d be so kind as to fuck off.”

James let out a quiet huff of laughter, but left without any further comment.

McCoy turned to O’Brian. There was still a little ball of rage in his stomach. He shook with the effort it took to keep it at bay as he surveyed the damage he’d done.

“Can’t give you a sedative, Ensign,” McCoy said softly, almost to himself. “You’re too—it wouldn’t end well, probably. Might turn you into a vegetable, and we can’t have that, can we? No.”

It was delicate work; one slip of his hand and becoming a vegetable would be the least of O’Brian’s worries.

Chapel crept in a few minutes later. Didn’t say anything as she handed him the tools he needed. No arguments, no lectures on how to cause pain or why it was a good idea to do so.

He finally paused, looking down at O’Brian with pursed lips. Even with a regen, O’Brian was going to be in Sick Bay for a while.

He opened one of the biobed’s compartments. It was the emergency compartment, for when the ship (or Sick Bay, at least) lost power and they were stuck doing things the old fashioned way. He could feel Chapel’s eyes on him as his hand passed over the little suture kit.

“I can do it,” she said, reaching across O’Brian’s body to rest a hand on McCoy’s.

The contact brought him out of his reverie, and he slammed the drawer shut.

“Give me the regen,” he said hoarsely, and ignored the disappointed look in Chapel’s eyes as she handed it to him.

(OFCOURSE,ALMOSTANYPAGEBREAKWOULDBEADISTINCTIMPROVEMENT)

“You could stay,” James said. “We could send Goodkind or someone else in your place—”

“If you’re thinking of it, they are as well,” McCoy said. “Both universes will just end up with different Ensigns.”

“You really think your friends are making nice with our McCoy?” James asked with a smirk.

He shrugged. “I’m making nice with y’all.”

“There are more of us,” James said.

“That’s true,” he said with a half-hearted smile.

They both went quiet. James opened his mouth a few times as if to say something, but kept stopping himself before he could get so much as a single syllable out.

“I’d like to kiss you goodbye,” McCoy said. “If that’s alright.”

“What?” James blinked at him. “Why?”

“Don’t reckon I’ll be kissing anyone anytime soon, kid,” McCoy said. “Jim and I don’t…we aren’t together like you and other-me are, remember?”

“There’s no one else you can fuck?” James asked.

“I leave the one-night stands to Jim,” he said derisively. “Ain’t too good at them, myself.”

“You could just tell the guy you like him,” James said. When McCoy frowned at him, he said, “It’s obvious you do, Bones. You had sex with his evil twin, for fuck’s sake.”

“I had sex with you,” McCoy said.

“That’s what I just said,” James said.

“I don’t think of you as Jim’s evil twin, James.”

“Yes you do,” James said, rolling his eyes. “Just like I think of you as Leonard’s good, naïve, and slightly perverse twin.”

“I’m not naïve,” McCoy said. “Or perverse.”

“Of course you aren’t,” James said in a neutral tone he’d obviously learned from Spock. Dammit. “And don’t try to change the subject. Just tell Jim you like him or whatever. Tie him to your bed and break the mattress.”

“Break the mattress,” McCoy said. “Do you even realize how long it would take to get a new one?”

“You guys don’t keep extras?” James asked, and clucked his tongue disappointedly when he saw the incredulous look on McCoy’s face. “You guys have kinky cuddling sex all the time, don’t you? Sick sons of bitches.”

McCoy rolled his eyes. “Look, can I just kiss you? Anything that happens when I get back…will happen. I just…I’d like to kiss you, now.”

“See, you call me unromantic, but you’re kind of an asshole,” James said, but stepped forward and put his hands on either side of McCoy’s face, pulling him into a kiss. It was sweet and gentle and chaste; everything McCoy had asked of James. Everything McCoy didn’t want a kiss to be, just then. “It’ll all work out, Bones. If you can take out a guy with a bedpan, you can for sure ask a guy out, right?”

McCoy chuckled weakly. “I guess so,” he said.

“I’m going to hug you,” James said; had his arms around McCoy before the last word was out of his mouth. “You take care of yourself, Bones. Keep being a badass.” He pulled away and gave McCoy the impish smirk he and Jim shared. “Hey, maybe you should start carrying around a bedpan. You’re lethal with those things.”

“I’ll start a bedpan-fu class,” McCoy said.

“I’d take it. Security’s scared shitless of you, now,” James said. “Leonard’s going to be ecstatic.”

“I’ll just bet,” he said. “Joanna, we’re leaving.”

“Fine,” Joanna said, voice muffled by her door. She had barricaded herself in her room early that morning and refused to come out.

“I…I sure would like a hug before I go,” he said. “Don’t but hardly get one from Jo-Jo, these days.”

Her door opened just a crack, one baleful eye peering out at him. “If you stay I’ll hug you as much as you want.”

“I can’t stay, baby girl,” he said, going down on one knee. “Jo-Jo still needs what Jocelyn will let me give her. And Jim—my Jim—needs me.”

“Fuck them,” she said, running out of the room and throwing herself into her arms. “I need you, too, Papa Bones. Please don’t go.”

“I’ve got to,” he said. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish I didn’t.”

“You don’t,” she said. Something cold pressed up against the nape of his neck.

“Hey, hey,” James said, grabbing one of her hands and wrestling a hypo away from her. “None of that, Joanna.”

“I just want him to stay here,” she said angrily, jerking away from McCoy. “Don’t you want him to stay?”

“He can’t, Joanna,” James said with a sharp tone of finality.

“I hate you, James. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” she said, and stormed back into her room. The door hissed shut behind her rather anticlimactically.

They stood there quietly for a moment, staring at her door, until Spock commed them to say the transporter was ready.

They left James’ chambers in silence, walking close enough that their shoulders sometimes brushed together.

“You know, Bones,” James said. “You’re pretty badass all around. It’s…I mean, I know you think you’re a cantankerous old bastard and all—and you are, don’t get me wrong—but people actually like you. Rogers actually jumped into the fight to help you and Joanna, and so did the nurses and some of the other patients.”

“Yeah, so?” McCoy asked.

“Bones, people don’t do that, here,” James said. “Not unless they’ve got something to gain, and they mostly had more to lose. They like Leonard, they respect him, but they’d never have saved his life. Well, Chapel might have, but I’m pretty sure that’s because he’s the only doctor she considers competent enough to be her superior.”

“It’s not like I’m anything special, kid,” McCoy said. “I just do my job the way it’s meant to be done.”

“Well.” James shrugged. “I guess maybe you’re onto something.”

“Of course I am,” McCoy said. He stepped up onto the transporter pad. Straightening his clothes, he looked down at Spock, Chekov, and James with an uneasy smile.

“Bones,” Chekov said brightly. James gave him a disgruntled look and Spock nudged him. With a wink and a wave, he disappeared from the room.

“I’m going to have to have a chat with that kid,” James said darkly.

“How about you don’t?” McCoy asked. “He’s a good kid.”

“He’s asking for it,” James said.

“Quit getting pissed off at him just because he has a crush on me,” McCoy said. “It’s…cute, or whatever.”

James snorted.

McCoy rolled his eyes and looked at Spock. “Make sure he doesn’t kill Chekov, would you?”

“I shall endeavor to do so,” Spock said, and raised his hand to form the familiar ta’al, which was apparently and somewhat disconcertingly universal. “Live long and prosper, Dr. McCoy.”

“Peace and long life, Mr. Spock,” McCoy said, enjoying the mild look of surprise on Spock’s face, which was followed by an upraised brow as McCoy tried (and failed) to return the ta’al.

“Bones,” James began, his expression softening ever-so-slightly.

“Energize,” McCoy said.

He saw James take a step toward him, hand reaching out, and then he was gone.

(OFCOURSE,ALMOSTANYPAGEBREAKWOULDBEADISTINCTIMPROVEMENT)

He shuddered as he rematerialized.

“Bones?”

He looked down into familiar blue eyes, brave and kind and so very different from those he’d grown accustomed to over the past two weeks.

“Jim,” he said hoarsely. He reached for Jim as he stumbled off of the pad, still not trusting that he was back in his own universe. Jim grabbed his wrist and pulled him into a hug, and his knees gave out. A sob burst out of his mouth.

He was back. He had really, truly made it back home.

“Bones, Bones, Bones,” Jim murmured into his neck as he struggled to keep them upright.

“Oh, God,” McCoy said, clutching at Jim’s shirt. “Jim. Jim, I…”

“It’s okay, Bones,” Jim said. “You’re home and you’re safe and I’ve got you, okay?”

“Yeah,” McCoy said. “God, Jim, it was…”

“I know,” Jim said. McCoy didn’t think he really had much of a clue. “It’s over.”

Someone cleared their throat, and McCoy found his feet again, relaxing his grip on Jim so he could look at Spock. Beardless, not-so-evil-after-all Spock. “Dr. McCoy. It is…gratifying to see that you made it back safely.”

“Good to see you, too, Spock,” McCoy said, rubbing his eyes on the sleeve of his tunic. “I think I actually missed seeing you all clean-shaven.”

“Indeed,” Spock said with a slight tilt of his head.

He took a deep breath. “I need to go to Medical. Make sure I didn’t bring anything untoward back with me.” Like Jibvig’s, though there was only one reptilian being aboard the _Enterprise_ (and she was an Engineer, unlikely to be on this level of the _Enterprise_ if she wasn’t on transporter duty). “Then I’d sure as hell like to eat a meal that doesn’t have to be tested for poison, first.”

“You should have seen Leonard’s face when we told him we don’t test for poison,” Jim said with a snicker, patting McCoy on the shoulder and then leaving his hand there like he had to convince himself of McCoy’s realness, too. “I thought he was going to go apoplectic.”

“I probably would have, too, if our roles were reversed,” McCoy said, and only realized how ridiculous the statement was when Jim burst out laughing. “Shut up, Jim.”

“You’ll have to tell us all about what happened over there,” Jim said.

“I’d really rather not,” McCoy said, thinking of the Xthians, and then, inappropriately, of James spread out beneath him, falling apart under his hands. He cleared his throat, averting his eyes away from Jim as they entered Sick Bay. “Chapel, can I get a quick scan?”

“Dr. McCoy?” she asked, and let out a relieved sigh when both he and Jim nodded. “Oh, thank God. Just let me get a tricorder. Do you feel alright?”

“Haven’t noticed anything strange,” McCoy said. “Little queasy, but I always feel like that after I’ve been on one of those deathtraps.”

She smiled as she passed the tricoder’s scanner over him. “Everything seems to be in order, sir, but a quick sonic shower probably wouldn’t go amiss.”

“Good idea,” he said. “I’ll just use the one here; no sense in traipsing about the ship with possible contaminants. My spare uniform still in my office?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll just be a tick, Jim,” he said. “Meet you in mess?”

“I don’t mind waiting,” Jim said, hefting himself up onto one of the unused beds with a charming smile at Chapel. Chapel rolled her eyes, but went back to her work without comment.

(OFCOURSE,ALMOSTANYPAGEBREAKWOULDBEADISTINCTIMPROVEMENT)

“Did they eat anything weird, over there?” Jim asked as they sat down, watching somewhat amusedly as McCoy tucked in enthusiastically.

“What, like the hearts of innocent children or something?” McCoy arched an eyebrow at Jim. “Of course not, you idiot. But every other thing had to be tested,” McCoy said after swallowing. “And if I looked away for too long James made me have it tested, again, like he’d not have seen someone slip something in it. I’ll tell you, Jim: you might think I’m paranoid, but these guys take the damn cake.”

“Not without reason,” Jim said.

“True,” McCoy conceded, wrinkling his nose. “The sad thing was they truly couldn’t imagine anything different. Mindboggling.”

“They did seem to have some ideas worth merit, though,” Jim said. “Leonard faced off with a Klingon war bird—hottest thing I’ve seen in a while, not going to lie.”

The hottest thing McCoy had seen was the look on James’ face when he told him he loved him.

“I agree,” Uhura said, taking a seat across from them. “I must say, Captain, you’ve never been as attractive to me as you were with your mouth shut.”

“You finally admit you find me attractive, Uhura,” Jim said with a lascivious wink, and laughed when Uhura rolled her eyes. “But I wasn’t, believe it or not, talking about me. I was talking about Bo—I mean, Leonard.”

“Competence is attractive,” she conceded, nodding. “It’s definitely a new and effective way of dealing with the Klingons, for the time being. Until they catch on.”

“If they ever do,” Jim said. “You think you could play hardball with Klingons, Bones?”

McCoy arched an eyebrow at him. “How so?”

“I’ll send you the video feed,” Uhura said, and smirked at Jim when his jaw dropped. “You thought I wasn’t going to get video proof of that? I won’t send it to anyone else, but it needed to be recorded for posterity’s sake.”

“I think you mean posterior’s sake,” Sulu said, flopping into the seat next to her. Spock sat primly on her other side. “Or, like, binding’s sake? I don’t think there’s really a word for that.” He tilted his head to one side, looking at McCoy. “Do you know how to hog-tie a man, Doc?”

“’Course I do,” McCoy said. “I’m from Georgia.”

“That’s what other-you said,” Chekov said as he sat down next to Sulu.

“Well, he’s from Georgia, too,” McCoy said with a slight quirk of his lips. “So I suppose he’d know.”

“You’re sassy enough for it, I think,” Jim said.

“For what?” he asked.

“Playing hardball with Klingons,” Jims aid. “Remember? Should’ve known you’d be up for it; you’re good at being intimidating when you want to be.”

“So I’m supposed to intimidate Klingons?” he asked.

“That’s what Leonard did,” Sulu said. “It was…I mean, I’m used to seeing you fuss at people, but seeing you act downright evil was…”

“Hot,” Jim said.

“Fascinating,” Spock said.

“Disconcerting,” Sulu said firmly, giving everyone else a bizarre look, like he wasn’t sure whether they were crazy or just weird.

“Something like this, I’m guessing?” McCoy asked, and tried to mimic the cruel smirk he had seen so often on James’ face.

“You look more constipated than intimidating,” Jim said.

“Intimidating,” McCoy repeated slowly. He thought about the Xthians dying over a dilithium deposit, about hearing Joanna’s head hit the sickbay floor, about the way James smiled and rattled off his kills like he was talking about hunting trophies instead of people’s lives. He grabbed hold of Jim’s hair and wrenched his head back, putting his mouth next to Jim’s ear and glaring at the others to keep them from interfering. Not that they looked like they would, their eyes wide as they watched. “I think I’m plenty intimidating, Jim.”

“Yeah,” Jim said breathily. His eyes were wide, too, pupils blown. McCoy could see Jim’s pulse jumping in his neck, and wondered if he was frightened or turned on. Jim’s Adam’s apple wobbled, and he let out an awkward laugh when McCoy released him and went back to his food. “I guess you are.”

“But I’d rather not butt heads with any Klingons, if it’s all the same to you,” McCoy said. “I’ve had enough of that, for the time being.”

“It could be a while before we run into them again,” Jim said. “We’ll debrief you and maybe—”

“I said no, Jim,” McCoy said. “I’ve had enough with power plays and senseless violence for a while, alright? And by a while I mean for at least the next three missions, so you’d best hope we get milk runs or count me out of the away team.”

“And what are we supposed to do if the Klingons show up before you decide you’re up to it, huh?” Jim asked. “You could be putting the entire crew in danger, Bones, did you think of that?”

McCoy shut his eyes for a moment, grinding his teeth together. He was so sick of holding the lives of so many in his hands. A planet, a galaxy, a ship—his respect for Jim had grown tenfold in the past few days, feeling that weight sitting on his shoulders. He generally only had a few people to take care of at a time; more in emergency situations, of course, but those never lasted long, thankfully.

“Have Uhura handle it,” he said after a tense moment of silence, reopening his eyes and standing. “I’m sure she’d love to have the Klingons—and you, come to think of it—at her mercy.”

“She can definitely pull off evil.” Jim nodded, apparently deciding to concede to McCoy’s request. He grinned impishly. “Bet it’ll burn them, too, not even warranting the head honcho’s time. What do you say, Uhura?”

“I suppose,” Uhura said with a slow smile. “What was I like in the other universe, Doctor?”

“Exactly like you are now, but without a conscience,” McCoy said.

Her mouth drew to one side in a slightly disappointed frown. “It’s just that you and Leonard are so different…”

McCoy thought back to the gratifying thump the bedpan had made when it slammed into O’Brian’s face; the hesitation he’d felt before ordering Chapel to administer an antihistamine to Goodkind.

“No,” he said finally. “We aren’t.” He stood, looking down at his tray so he wouldn’t have to look at anyone else. “I’m going to see if Jocelyn will let me talk to Jo-Jo.”

(OFCOURSE,ALMOSTANYPAGEBREAKWOULDBEADISTINCTIMPROVEMENT)

Naturally, Jocelyn wouldn’t so much as send him a picture of Jo-Jo—hadn’t even deigned to turn him down herself. Clay claimed his counterpart had frightened her, though he wasn’t clear on whether he meant ‘her’ as in Jo-Jo or ‘her’ as in Jocelyn.

So McCoy flopped down on the couch and knocked back a finger of bourbon (a waste of fine bourbon, yes, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care), hissing as it burned its way down his throat. Buried his face in his hands and tried to ignore the image in his head of tearing Jocelyn apart the way his counterpart had done to his.

The second glass he forced himself to sip, though his hand shook as he brought it up to his mouth.

There was a hesitant knock on his door.

“Bones? Hey, are you talking to Joanna? Because I can come back—”

“Come on in, Jim,” McCoy said with a sigh, pressing the glass to his forehead.

“You okay?” Jim asked as the door hissed shut behind him.

“Sure,” McCoy said. Nodded at the bourbon. “Want some?”

“Best not,” Jim said, settling on the couch next to McCoy. “I was…kind of an ass, in the mess. Figured I should apologize.”

“I wasn’t any better,” McCoy said. He sat the glass down, rubbing his middle finger along the rim. “I just…it wasn’t fun over there, Jim. It was the exact opposite of fun, and I guess I should go to therapy—no, I know I should. But I’d really prefer to just forget about it for a while, you know?”

“Yeah,” Jim said, even though McCoy was pretty sure he didn’t. Couldn’t possibly. “I shouldn’t have pushed you. Are you…okay?”

“No,” McCoy said, picking up the glass and swigging down the rest of its contents in one go. Not that there was much left. “But I will be. I’m back here, and God willing I’ll never have to go back there, so…I will be.”

It would help if Jim didn’t look so much—exactly—like James. Because what he really wanted right now was to fuck someone’s brains out, and even if Jim liked him that way he was absolutely positive he couldn’t handle awkward, cheesy cuddling sex at the moment.

Jim hummed—hummed, seriously, like he was only half listening. When McCoy looked at him, frowning, Jim was staring somewhere in the vicinity of his neck, head tilted slightly to the side, eyes glazed.

“Jim?”

Jim jerked back. He gave McCoy a somewhat guilty smile, cheeks going a very light shade of pink. Their eyes met and held. McCoy, pants suddenly snug around his waist, wondered if maybe the awkward, cheesy cuddling sex might actually be okay.

“I had sex with Leonard,” Jim said suddenly. He reached up to rub the back of his neck self-consciously, and McCoy caught sight of a bruise that would normally have been hidden by Jim’s collar. “We, um. A few times.”

“Me, too,” McCoy said. “With James, obviously. Only the once, though.”

“And…?”

“And what?” he asked with a frown.

“Did you…like it?” Jim asked. “Do you think we could…or we could not. That’s okay, too, of course. I mean, you never wanted to before, so—”

“I never told you I wanted to before,” McCoy said. “As for James…it was weird, to tell you the truth. Cuddling is apparently this weird kink, or something. I didn’t even mean for us to do anything besides maybe play footsy, but…we ended up doing more.”

“We did that, too, sort of,” Jim said. “Mostly you—he—tied me up. I kind of…I liked it.”

“Oh,” McCoy said. “Is that why Sulu asked…why did Sulu know about that?”

“The Klingon thing,” Jim said. “Other-you kind of tied me up a bit to, you know, show he was the boss. And then…well, he taught me a few knots.”

“Did you tie him up, too?” McCoy asked, his neck flushing.

“Yeah,” Jim said, and smirked. “Why? You want me to tie you up, Bones? Stretch you out on the bed?”

“You sound like a bad porno,” McCoy said as he tried to keep control of his breathing.

“But you want it, don’t you?” Jim asked. “You want to be tied down, so tight you can barely move.”

“Jim, I don’t think—”

“Is that a no?” Jim asked.

“No,” McCoy said. He could feel himself heating up all the way to the tips of his ears, cock straining in the confines of his pants. “I mean, it isn’t a no.”

“I don’t have any rope, right now,” Jim said. “But maybe if I ask real nice you’ll hold yourself down. Think you can do that, Bones?”

“It isn’t a yes, either,” McCoy said. “Jim, I don’t know if I can—”

“I want to find out,” Jim said, and smashed his lips into McCoy’s.

“Let me finish my goddamn sentence, Jim,” McCoy said, grabbing Jim’s arms roughly and only just refraining from pulling him back in for another kiss. “I don’t know if I can take being fucked, right now.” He waited until he saw the words begin to get through to Jim’s brain before saying, “But I reckon I could fuck you. You can show off your knots next shore leave, can’t you?”

Jim nodded eagerly, pupils blown wide.

“Okay,” McCoy said, and kissed him again. Bit into Jim’s bottom lip, and then pulled away so he could nip at the other man’s jawline. He pushed the collar of Jim’s shirt away, frowning at the hickey he found there before covering it with his lips, intent on replacing his counterpart’s mark with his own.

Jim hissed at the sensation, rocking into McCoy’s hip. “Bones. Bones, I—”

“Go to the bedroom and strip down, Jim,” McCoy said, growling the words into Jim’s neck before wrenching himself away and standing up. “I need a shower and you aren’t joining me, hear?”

Jim whined, but McCoy wouldn’t let himself be pulled back down.

“There’s some lube in the top drawer of the nightstand,” McCoy said, and quickly made for the bathroom before Jim could try to change his mind. Took a sonic though usually he’d spring for water after everything he’d been through over the past few weeks.

Skin tingling, a thin towel hanging loosely around his hips, he went to the bedroom. He forced himself to take his time, though it was all he could do not to sprint to the bed once he got to the doorway and saw Jim.

Naked, sprawled out on the bed, Jim had three slick fingers sliding in and out of himself. The angle was obviously awkward, and he groaned as he tried to push his fingers further but couldn’t.

“Don’t waste any time, do you, kid?” McCoy asked, and let the towel drop to the floor when Jim looked up at him.

“Wish you’d stop wasting it.” Jim gritted the words out, heels digging into the mattress.

He smiled toothily and crawled up onto the bed, settling over Jim and leaning his head down for a languid kiss. Jim whined into his mouth when he grabbed Jim’s hands and pushed them up over his head. He sat back on his heels and smeared lube all over one hand, and then forced four fingers into Jim’s shuddering hole. Jim cried out, arching up off of the bed.

“You feel so good,” McCoy groaned into his ear, and clasped Jim’s wrists with his free hand when Jim tried to move them. “Fuck, you really didn’t waste your time. I could’ve just started fucking you and you’d have swallowed me up without any problems, huh? Wouldn’t even have to lube myself up, Christ, were you trying to use up the whole bottle?”

“Stop.” Jim gasped when McCoy twisted his fingers cruelly. “Stop telling me what you’d do and just _do_ it, Bones. I don’t remember other-you being this talkative in bed.”

“Other-you was about this impatient,” McCoy said, but he was already removing his fingers and lining himself up. “Guess we’ve had a few years of foreplay, huh?”

“More than a few,” Jim said, his entire body jerking as McCoy pushed in.

McCoy tried to say something else, but his brain had stopped communicating with his voice in favor of focusing on Jim’s warmth grasping at him. He settled for pressing open-mouthed kisses into Jim’s neck, biting down hard in warning when Jim tried to wrest his hands free again.

“Bones,” Jim said, trying to meet McCoy’s thrusts but failing, too far gone to synchronize their movements. “Bones, please.”

McCoy released Jim’s hands, reaching down to grasp at Jim’s hips and slam their bodies together. The harsh movements caused Jim to slide back on the bed, and he braced his hands against the headboard.

When they reached some sort of equilibrium, Jim pulled one hand away so he could dig his fingernails into McCoy’s scalp. He tried to kiss McCoy, but couldn’t manage more than mouthing at McCoy’s lips, sharp, staccato grunts punctuating every movement.

“James,” McCoy gasped out, and couldn’t be sure if he was talking to Jim or Jim’s counterpart.

For his part, Jim groaned and shivered and said, “Leonard.” When McCoy snapped his hips even harder, Jim said, “Leonard, come on, I want you to—”

“James, fuck.” McCoy’s movements stuttered as Jim came with a shout. He followed closely, sinking his teeth into Jim’s shoulder.

Several minutes passed before McCoy could actually think again. Could maybe start to regret what had just happened, because Jim wasn’t anything like James, not really, and—

“Kind of sick, isn’t it?” Jim asked, curling into McCoy when he pulled out rolled off to one side. McCoy looked at him with a frown. “I mean, I don’t think they even really believe in love, over there, but if it wasn’t for them I probably never would have realized I kind of do. Love you, I mean.”

McCoy stared at him, heart beating double time in his chest. After a few moments, Jim looked away from him, licking his lips.

“But, um,” Jim said awkwardly, “we can just…do this. There doesn’t have to be…sorry, I just thought…”

“Don’t be stupid,” McCoy said, and snagged his arms around Jim’s waist before the other man could pull away. “’Course I love you back. Idiot.”

A slow smile spread across Jim’s face.

They kissed, Jim’s fingers running along the upraised scratch marks littering McCoy’s back. McCoy hissed, but couldn’t help but wonder if maybe the mirror universe was right about some things, after all.

The End


End file.
